


The Prodigal

by Ixthalia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Conditioning, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forgiveness, Gen, Healing, Human Experimentation, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Recovery, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Super Soldier Serum, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ixthalia/pseuds/Ixthalia
Summary: A new agent is deployed by HYDRA to clean up loose ends, and the former Winter Soldier is startled by how familiar her tactics and cold, angry glare are. Desperate for answers and to prevent further bloodshed, the Avengers sift through abandoned HYDRA bases and caches looking for the truth. But the closer they get, the more evident it is they're ignorant to the full extent of HYDRA's depravity.Some threads shouldn't be pulled, some memories are better left forgotten...*REVIEW THE TAGS! Chapters will contain graphic scenes of violence and flashbacks of a disturbing nature...please be fully aware of that before continuing* TAGS to be updated as chapters are posted and the full story-line is flushed out*





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first venture into the Marvel fandom (yes, I am horribly late to the party but OMG am I ever in love with it already!) and I welcome all comments and constructive feedback. Thank you in advance for taking the time to read my story and leave your feedback! :)
> 
>  **Quick translations:** (not 100% accurate as I'm not fluent in Russian and rely on a translation program)
> 
> ‘Devushka’= girl  
> ‘Komandir’ = commander  
> ‘Moy Rebenok’ = my child  
> ‘Soldat’ = Soldier  
> ‘Da’ = Yes  
> ‘vstavay’ = Wake Up

**Siberia**

Raised voices beyond the door to her room scared her. She grabbed her tattered blanket and a handful of broken crayons and retreated to the back of the room, passing a bucket of broken toys and the square of carpet that served as her bed. At the back of her room, past secure terminals she’d learned the hard way not to touch, was the pod that held the sleeping soldier.

Her Soldat. 

In the small, steel-walled room that she’d spent the entirety of her eight years in, he was her only friend. That he never woke didn’t bother her. He was a constant, a silent sentinel she’d whisper her secrets and fears to each night. 

And she didn’t need her babushka to tell her he was strong. The front of the pod was glass, allowing her to see his shiny metal arm and huge muscly frame. Maybe someday he would wake up. Maybe someday he’d be able to protect her. 

Babushka wouldn’t intimidate him; the komandir wouldn’t scare him to the point of tears…

He wouldn’t be so weak as to let people hit him…

Sniffling, she spread her blanket out on the cold floor and reached her tiny hand under the pod, into the small gap between it and the floor that served as her hiding spot for everything precious she had.

Pulling out several sheets of stained paper, she continued working on her drawing – her Soldat awake and standing by her side, the door to her small room open and her captors nowhere to be found. As she finished the red star she knew to be on the Soldat’s metal arm, she selected a purple shard of crayon and put her name in the bottom corner of the page.

L-I-L-I-Y-A

Smirking, she stood and held up the drawing so her friend could see it.

“See?” she whispered, “it’s you and –

“Devushka!” 

She spun around and swallowed hard as her babushka stormed towards her, her expression twisted in anger.

She yelped as the old woman’s open hand came down hard across her cheek. She grabbed her drawing, ripping it apart in a tempest of curses and shouts. Throwing the pieces up in the air, she grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the door.

Afraid of the woman and her tight grip, she turned around and tried to reach out to her Soldat.

“Soldat!” she screamed shrilly, “vstavay! Please!

The gentle hiss of the machines running the pod was all that answered her.

**Siberia, 4 years later**

She woke up in stages, consciousness slowly returning to her as her senses shook off the sluggish stupor the drugs always inflicted. First came hearing. Muted initially and then so obscenely loud she wiggled against her bonds despite knowing it always angered her handlers. 

She took a deep, steadying breath.

The walls of the room where she was being held were metal and the voices of the agents holding her leash echoed. Techs were fussing over unseen machines, the instruments of torture she knew so well, even without laying eyes on them.

The air was damp and musty and she wondered how far underground they were.

Thought sight was the last sense to return to her, she knew he was there. The room was cold and she could feel a bizarre tension from the techs working nearby. The Winter Solider had that effect on people…even those that were part of the organization that held his leash.

She blinked away the last remnants of fog that clouded her eyes and saw him sitting across from her. He was bare from the waist up, his chest an ugly collage of dark bruises and deep, dirty cuts. A terrified tech was frantically working on his metal arm while two others prepped the device she knew would be brought down over his face to send the sharp blasts of electricity through his head.

The Winter Solider didn’t seem phased by the impending torture, he never did. She wished she could be so calm. She wished she could be like him.

The techs pushed him back in his seat and the clamps came down on his biceps, the arms of the machine coming down on his face.

She braced herself for what was to come while his gaze remained distant, cold, right up until the first burst of energy ripped through his brain.

She held her breath the entire time, not daring to look away. Looking away wasn’t an option given to her by her handlers; that was something she’d learned years ago.

After the fourth surge, the technicians disengaged the machine and the Winter Solider took short, gasping breaths. 

As she watched with fascination, she felt a strong, familiar hand grasp the back of her neck.

“Who are you, devushka?” the komandir asked, his grip tightening.

She licked her lips and answered as she thought he’d want.

“Liliya Iri – 

She was met with a slap that stung her cheek so fiercely she cried out despite everything in her telling her not to. Her head spun violently and she could taste blood on her tongue. She took a sharp inhale and looked up, seeing the Winter Solider standing before her. Her gaze fell to his metal arm, to the smear of her blood on the back of his hand.

Confused, she looked up, seeking out his piercing blue eyes and finding his focus already on her, his eyes vacant.

She flicked her tongue out and over her bottom lip, only to get another mouthful of blood. Strangely enough, she felt her chin quiver and her eyes sting with…tears?

_Soldat…_

She looked down quickly, but the komandir grabbed her chin and forced her to look up.

“Today is the first step on a path set out for you before you took your first breath, devushka. You have a destiny to seize, my dear. There will be pain, hardship, but you will be so much stronger in the end, my dear.”

She kept her focus on the Winter Solider.

“You have such astounding potential,” he whispered, his voice bubbling over with barely contained excitement, “you could possess strength that rivals his one day.”

She risked a glance to the komandir and he laughed at the curious glimmer she knew to be in her eyes.

“Would you like that, devushka? Would you like to best the Winter Soldier one day?”

She nodded without hesitation.

The komandir smiled fondly and pressed a kiss to her temple. She sighed and looked back to the Winter Solider.

She kept her gaze on him as the techs worked on her, hooking up IVs and monitors.

“There will be pain,” the komandir said, placing his hand just above the strap that bound her wrist to the chair, “Are you ready, moy rebenok?” 

Swallowing hard, she nodded.

The komandir moved toward the soldier, placing a hand on the shoulder of his metal arm.

“Soldat, you’ve a new mission.”

She watched him lean in to whisper in the Winter Soldier’s ear but wasn’t able to hear what was said. A tech to her side pressed the plunger on a syringe he’d hooked to her IV and every nerve in her body immediately felt raw and exposed. He pulled back some of the tape holding the catheter in place and she screamed, the simple motion of the fine hairs of her arm being pulled from their roots feeling like fire spreading across her skin.

Tears welled in her eyes and she bit the side of her bottom lip that hadn’t been split.

She looked up to the Winter Soldier, heard the tell-tale whirl of the mechanics of his metal arm shifting, and braced herself.

**Sokovia, 2 years later**

His metal hand jerked forward, his mechanical fingers tightening around her neck and forcing her backward. She grunted as her back hit the wall, gasping and clawing at his hand as her brain screamed at her to breathe.

Her gaze met his and she snarled, bringing up her legs up to use his body as leverage. Feet planted on his chest, she kicked as hard as she could upward, catching his chin. To her horror, it did nothing to dislodge the death-grip on her.

Vision blurring, she knew unconsciousness was imminent. Dropping her feet, she put all of her energy into one swift kick – below the belt.

His grip loosened as he hunched over and she quickly took advantage of the opening, spinning around to land an impressive kick to his chest. She vaguely registered the clapping coming from the sidelines, focusing entirely on the soldier as he regained his footing and lunged at her.

She grunted with every blow she took, struggling to maintain the psychological distance from her pain her training had taught her. 

With him it was always so hard though. Every blow, even those that grazed her, sent unbelievable pain ripping through her body. She dreaded every blow. 

One particularly nasty blow to her lower back, right above her kidney, dropped her. The second her knees hit the ground, full awareness returned to her and she crumpled forward as nearly every inch of her body screamed in pain.

She could feel the Winter Soldier looming over her well before he grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head back.

She looked up at him, at those emotionless, cold blue eyes and felt real terror shoot through her. Their bout might be over, but she knew he was going to inflict more pain on her before she was allowed the mercy of rest in her cramped cell.

The komandir stepped forward, the heels of his boots clicking against the ground as he grew closer.

“You disappoint me, devushka,” he said quietly, clicking his tongue as he moved so she could see him, “What have you been doing these last few months?”

She was hyperventilating now, there was no hiding it. The Winter Soldier’s grip had tightened on her hair and he’d grasped the wrist of her right arm with his flesh one. She wanted to get away from him, to break free from his grasp and end the god-awful burning pain his touch ignited in every nerve of her body.

“T-Training,” she managed to sputter through clenched teeth, “s-serving…”

“Do you still want to best him?” the komandir questioned evenly, “Do you want to serve HYDRA, shape the world as he does?”

She took a deep, greedy breath and nodded as much as his grip on her would allow, “Da, komandir.”

“I doubt your conviction, moy rebenok. Who are you?”

The Winter Soldier pulled back on her wrist, hyperextending her arm and putting painful pressure on her shoulder and elbow.

She hissed, eyes wide as she regarded the komandir, “No one! I am no one,” she gasped as the Winter Soldier pulled back even more, “I am HYDRA’s arm, I want to serve!”

The komandir looked up to the Winter Soldier and nodded.

“We will see, child.”

She felt the soldier shift on his feet behind her and had only a moment to wonder what he was going to do before her entire arm exploded in pain, her shoulder popping effortlessly out of its socket. She screamed, reeling forward in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. 

“Soldat!” she gasped, her wide eyes seeking him out as pain and fear mixed up inside of her in a toxic combination that overloaded her senses and overrode the ‘rules’ HYDRA had put in place, “Please! Stop!”

Instead, he reefed harder on her arm, audibly snapping her radius before finally letting go of her.

She fell forward in a heap, her cheek pressed against the dirty floor. The komandir left without saying another word, but the Winter Soldier stayed.

Overwhelmed by the agony in her arm and exhausted from their fight, she could only weakly turn her head to look at him.

Tears welled in her eyes.

It was foolish, but she couldn’t help but feel betrayed. He was nothing like what she’d dreamed him to be and no matter how hard she tried, no matter how close to the edge she pushed herself, she couldn't get where she needed to be. Anger bubbled up and over her sadness and she cursed under her breath, furious with herself for wanting to be anything like him.

“Someday…someday I’m going to kill you ,” she whispered, glaring at him with lethal intent, “I promise you, soldat.”

She was going to be better.


	2. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An agent of HYDRA gets to work in D.C.; Bucky seems something eerily familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've been kind enough to leave comments and kudos :)

**Washington D.C., Modern Day**

She woke early from a restless sleep, the sheets tucked underneath her and her hand tightly clutching her PSM pistol. She set about getting ready with practiced calm, rising and pulling her duffle bag out from under the bed. While she had a wide array of firearms at her disposal, she knew going to her destination armed was out of the question. So she bypassed all of it and instead grabbed a set of fresh clothes.

Quickly showering and inhaling a protein bar, she tugged on a clean pair of jeans, grey tank, and hoodie. Once she was dressed, she returned to her duffle bag and sorted through the passports and drivers licences she’d been outfitted with.

In the end, she chose the identity of ‘Louisa Hartman’ and slipped out of the safe house via the fire escape, bag tossed over her shoulder.

After concealing the bag in a separate safe house, she hopped on the subway, making the thirty minute journey uptown to the Smithsonian. 

While not her final destination, it was a stop she’d opted to make for the sake of surveillance and intelligence gathering.

She passed through security without issue, paying the admission fee and offering the sales woman a pleasant smile as she continued into the museum. She bypassed offers of guided tours and headed down the wing marked ‘Captain America'.

It was an impressive collection, with pieces she knew would fetch a pretty penny on the black market. Reining in her curiosity, albeit slighting, she wandered the aisles and casually read the plaques. 

She saw the uniforms worn by the famous Howling Commandos set against the image of the American flag and she had to bite back a laugh. Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe Jones, Jacques Dernier, James Buchanan Barnes…

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and was startled that even now, so many years later, simply seeing his name on a damn plaque put her immediately on edge. Grumbling, she continued down the aisle, only to come face-to-face with his memorial.

_‘Born in 1917, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor…'_

She snorted, smirking in quiet amusement as she read the small biography that had been etched onto his memorial.

Oh, if only they knew, she thought to herself.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, ‘Louisa’ prepped for the first step of her mission in a safe house in the northern end of the city. She’d slipped into sleek, black armor HYDRA had spent a fortune developing for her. Crafted in a material similar to Kevlar but three times lighter, it had panels of vibranium sewn between the tight, durable fabric that added extra protection over vulnerable parts of her body. She pulled back her long, wavy chestnut brown hair, tying it into a tight bun and donning her mask and gloves.

Her target was Jack Rollins, a former HYDRA operative who’d been a part of SHIELD’s S.T.R.I.K.E. task force before the destruction at the Triskelion. He wasn’t of any real importance, having curled-tail after everything went to hell, but intel suggested he had been in contact with Rumlow.

And Rumlow, ‘the greatest disappointment’ Komandir Mikhailov claimed to have suffered in his lifetime, was someone HYDRA wanted ‘put down’ immediately.

And what her komandir wanted, she strived to make happen.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Rollins was so easy to find it pissed her off. 

Firstly, because her komandir had utilized valuable resources to pull her out of cryo early and get her to the States at a moment’s notice. Second, because she’d hyped herself up for a fun evening and instead been confronted by a simpering man who couldn’t control his bladder when she pulled out her MP-443.

“T-T-Tell me what you need,” he blabbered, “p-please!”

She scowled, though her mask hid it, and circled the chair she’d strapped him to like a predator stalking her prey.

Pausing a moment, her fingers trailing over his bonds, an idea struck her that gave hope to the otherwise lack-luster ‘conversation’.

She prowled around him, coming to a stop in front of him.

“Your former comrade, Rumlow,” she began, “you’re going to tell me everything you know about where he is. If you lie, I’ll start cutting.”

She drew out her knife and pressed it to his wrist.

“I know how to tell when a man is lying, so don’t.”

Rollins stammered, regarding her with wide eyes.

She flicked her hand, drawing her blade along the inside of his wrist and smirking when he jumped and whined.

He talked…or rather, he sang.

After thirty minutes, she had everything he had to offer.

Rumlow had been busy. Illegal arms dealing out of Nigeria, recruiting mercenaries to his cause, and making screwing over the Avengers his main mission…well, if he wasn’t a deserter and a son of a bitch she’d be impressed. 

With Rollins spent and bloodied before her, she pulled out her ‘special find’ from her belt and held it up for the man to see.

“W-W-Where’d you get that?” he stammered, sweat trailing down his face as his gaze zeroed in on what she had in her hand.

“A girl’s got to have some secrets,” she smirked, “but I will tell you something, Rollins – you’re going to help me get a message to someone much more important than you.”

“I-I am?”

She nodded, slowly bringing her knife from his wrist up to his neck.

Before he had a chance to process what was happening, she buried her knife into his gut. His eyes flew open and his lip quivered as his brain struggled to catch up to what his body was experiencing. She didn’t give him time to adjust though, jerking the blade back only to stab him in the chest.

When she imagined the expression that would cloud his face when he got her message, she felt a surge of adrenaline.

A low, breathless wheeze left Rollins and she smirked before losing herself to the moment, stabbing and slashing with wild abandon.

_Hail HYDRA…_

**Upstate New York, 16 hrs later**

Fury clutched the file tight, his fingernails digging into the thick card as he hurried through the winding hallway to the conference room.

He hadn’t felt this – a wild adrenaline-fuelled surge that called him to action – since he’d gathered up the scattered remnants of SHIELD to help with the evacuation of Sokovia. Now he had evidence something big was brewing.

On the surface, it was but a pebble being tossed into a pond. But years of experience and intuition told him the ripples would hit them soon.

Pushing open the conference room doors, he was unsurprised to find Steve and Barnes waiting for him, seated near the head of the table.

“Captain,” he said with a nod, “Sergeant.”

For the most part, wherever Steve went Bucky followed. Not that Fury minded. Initially, when suspicions were still high that Barnes would snap, it helped him sleep a little better at night knowing Captain America was holding the leash. Now, Fury’s worries that the former HYDRA trained soldier and assassin would revert to his old ways had lessened dramatically. But he wasn’t about to tell Steve that.

“Where the hell are the others?”

Just as the words left his lips, the conference room door opened again and Natasha, Clint, and Tony entered.

“So kind of you to join us,” Nick hissed as they all casually took their seats.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Nick,” Tony said with a smirk, kicking his legs up on the edge of the table where he sat, coffee cup raised high, “You literally beat us here by seconds.”

“What’s got you on edge?” Clint asked, his sharp gaze fixed on the former SHIELD director. 

Nick sighed, “Just over twelve hours ago, police found the mutilated corpse of Jack Rollins in an abandoned factory blocks from the ruins of the Triskelion.”

He punched in commands at a panel at the head of the table, causing a screen to lower, lights to dim, and an image to appear.

Clint gave a low whistle as the team took in the image, “Oh boy, pissed off someone, didn’t he?”

Steve’s gaze jumped from the image to Nick and then back, “Is that – 

“A Captain America helmet stuck to his chest with a military-issued knife? It sure is. Sources from the Smithsonian are reporting the replica from the Captain America exhibit was recently stolen.”

“I’d say it’s been found,” Nat said, crossing her arms, “Why bring us in for this though, Nick? Rollins was low level.”

“Preliminary coroner’s reports indicate each stab wound was precise. The first blows were intentionally away from vital organs, while later blows hit each major organ with trained precision. Pile that on top of the fact that Rollins has evaded police and us since the shit hit the fan at the Triskelion and colour-me-intrigued, Romanoff.”

“You think HYDRA’s picking off their own guys?” Steve asked, catching a glimpse of Bucky shifting awkwardly in his seat in his peripheral.

“Didn’t realize they were organized enough after what happened to make that kind of move,” Clint voiced.

“We knew not every compromised agent went down with the ship. This,” he pointed to the image behind him on the projector, “I have a feeling, is just the beginning.”

“Of what?”

“Nothing fun,” Tony quipped, “Our stabby-friend from HYDRA tacked your helmet to that guy – Rollins, was it? It’s pretty obvious who he’s working his way up to.”

“Yeah but to jump from low-level goons to tacking on Cap?” Clint speculated, the gears turning in his mind, “Kind of a big jump…”

“Must have other targets,” Nat finished for him, looking to Nick.

“That’s the concern. I don’t know about you all, but I don’t like the idea of HYDRA ripping through Washington and New York picking off whomever they choose and cutting off our chances for figuring out what the hell they’re up to. They ruined a good thing in SHIELD, and I’d like a fair shot at taking the bastards out ourselves before they take each other out.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

Their meeting ended with Clint and Nat agreeing to travel to Washington and Tony buckling down with FRIDAY and Bruce to search their channels. For the time being Bucky and Steve were going to remain at the New Avengers Compound; a move that didn’t sit well with Bucky on a multitude of levels.

“Hey, wait up,” Steve called after him as he left Tony and Fury to catch up with him further down the hall, “You alright? You seemed tense in there.”

Bucky shrugged.

Any mention of HYDRA still made him uncomfortable. Partially because of the uneasy looks Steve’s friends still gave him, but also because there was still so much he didn’t know. Their ‘treatment’ left sizeable gaps in his memory and while he’d been able to close some of them with the help of T’Challa’s people, many still remained. It left him with a constant sense of unease.

But what he’d seen in the conference room unnerved him for more than just the fact HYDRA was suspected to be behind it.

It jumped out at him the moment Fury had displayed the crime scene photo for them to see and he’d spent the remainder of the meeting sitting in silence, wracking his brain for the ‘why’ behind the strange sense of deja vu that had come over him.

Bucky stopped and rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh hand.

“It could be nothing…”

“Or it could be something,” Steve interjected, “What is it, Bucky?”

He grimaced, his jaw clenching as he tried to maneuver through the fog in his mind to find the source of his current agitation.

“Steve, I…I think I’ve seen that… _work_ before.”


	3. From the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to remember and Nat and Clint run into trouble in Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Moy Rebenok’ = my child  
> ‘Soldat’ = Soldier  
> ‘Moroz’ = Frost  
> ‘Rozhdeniye’ = Birth  
> ‘Porvannyy’ = Torn  
> ‘Voskhod’ = Sunrise  
> ‘Gotovy soblyudat’ = Ready to comply

Bucky woke suddenly, a cold sweat covering him and soaking the sheets.

He took deep, gasping breaths as he scanned the room. It was empty, quiet, with only a glimmer of moonlight filtering through the blinds. He was in New York…the Avengers compound. HYDRA…their machines and injections…they were far away.

It was just another nightmare.

He kicked loose the sheets that had tangled around his feet and sat on the edge of his bed. Leaning forward he held his head in his hands as he tried to make sense of the latest broken memory to intrude on his sleep.

_The girl shook violently, knife clutched tightly in her hand and her long, greasy brown hair obscuring her face. She was wearing a tattered nightgown that stopped at her knees. It was thin and dirty, as though it was the only thing she’d worn for years._

_Before her knelt a gagged and badly beaten man who was making muffled pleas for mercy. The Winter Soldier stood behind the panicking girl and when commanded by the uniformed figure in the shadows, he stepped forward and grasped the girl by the back of her neck._

_She immediately went rigid. He could hear her breathing grow sharp as her chest tightened in fear._

_“S-Soldat,” she stammered, teeth chattering._

_He remained unflinching in his mission, and tightened his grip on the girl, remaining cold and emotionless as she cried out._

_“Moy rebenok,” said the voice from the shadows, “you’ve a duty.”_

_The girl sniffled and tried to look over her shoulder to the Winter Soldier._

_“Moroz,” the shadowed figure began, voice tight with annoyance, “rozhdeniye.”_

_The girl squealed and the Winter Soldier was undaunted._

_“Porvannyy, voskhod –_

_“Soldat!” she groaned through clenched teeth, “please –_

_He twisted his wrist, grabbing a fistful of her hair and silencing her._

_He didn’t hear the rest of the man’s words but the girl did. He felt the tension leave her as she became pliant under his touch by the time the last word left the man’s lips._

_“Gotovy soblyudat”, the girl whispered._

_“The man in front of you is an agent of SHIELD sent to destroy you,” the man said evenly, “sent to destroy us. You need to send them a message, moy rebenok.”_

_“Da, komandir.”_

_The Winter Soldier released his grip on her and she took two confident, smooth strides forward before raising the blade._

Bucky groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. Earlier, he’d told Steve what little he could remember of the girl and stood silently by his side as he passed the information on to Fury. The former SHIELD director hadn’t heard of an assassin with such a description, but promised to look into old channels and contact old friends just to be thorough. 

That hadn’t sat well with him, and he’d slipped from Steve’s side to confront Natasha and Clint as they prepped their go-bags in the hanger. Neither spy had been thrilled to see him initially. Since joining up on Steve’s insistence, he’d dealt with his fair share of dirty, suspicious looks. No one trusted him; but everyone trusted Steve, so his presence was tolerated. 

He’d told Natasha what he could remember, voicing his suspicion that the killer in Washington was the girl from his fragmented memories. Unfortunately he knew little else. Not her name, her face, or her purpose…

Still, he felt somewhat better giving them a heads up.

Bucky rolled from his bed and headed out to the kitchen. It was late and the halls were empty. 

So he was surprised to find the living room just off the kitchen occupied. 

“You alright?” Steve asked from his spot on the couch.

Bucky shrugged and opened the fridge.

“Just another nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Again, Bucky shrugged. He poured a glass of orange juice and leaned against the counter.

“Was it about that girl?”

He nodded, “Can’t remember a name…or her face. I just…saw her kill someone.”

“It was just a nightmare, Buck.”

“Nah,” Bucky said with a groan, moving to sit on the couch with him, “it was a memory. I was there…I hurt her.”

Steve sighed, “Bucky, you did a lot of things when you were the Winter Soldier. None of them are your fault.”

“Maybe…but if what I did contributed to her becoming…whatever she is, killing that guy in Washington…”

“You can only control your own actions, Buck. Beating yourself up over something you may or may not have done to her…well, you’re not going to win that fight.”

“Still…it pisses me off that I can’t remember more.”

Steve gave him an encouraging pat on his shoulder and Bucky tried to stifle the tremor that went through his entire body at the contact on his metal arm.

Of course, Steve noticed, but he was good enough not to say anything. He just gave him an apologetic look.

“It’ll come.”

Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head, “It’s just…she had trigger words.”

Steve’s brow arched as he regarded him with blatant surprise. He knew the importance of the words, of course. Bucky had his own up until his stay in Wakanda. Shuri and her team had worked magic as far as Steve was concerned, severing that last leash HYDRA had on him.

“Another Winter Soldier?” he asked, having found his voice.

“Maybe…it’s just…”

“What?”

He could tell Bucky was struggling to remember, his brow furrowed as he tried to force himself through decades of broken memories to find the answers he was seeking.

“She called me ‘soldat’ – soldier. I think she knew me.”

Steve downed the last of his own drink and stood, “I’ll get a message to Nat and Clint, let them know we may be dealing with a Winter Soldier. Try to get some sleep in the meantime, Buck. The memories will come to you, depriving yourself of sleep won’t make them get here any faster.”

He knew Steve was right, but when he downed his drink and finally collapsed into his bed, he was confronted by the same nightmare.

_“Soldat!”_

He didn’t sleep well that night, or the next.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Clint kept an eye on the building from the outside, perching on the roof of the building directly to the south. Nat took the inside.

They’d gotten word from Steve when they were less than an hour out that they suspected the killer was a Winter Soldier. The news pissed off both spies, both having had their share of HYDRA’s super soldiers, but they continued undaunted.

Nat kept in contact with him via her com, keeping him apprised of her progress through the warehouse. 

“Quiet on your end?” she asked in a whisper.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

The warehouse was in an industrial neighborhood, but there were some public housing condominiums nearby. Traffic outside of them was relatively little; with only a handful of civilians meandering about and the occasional city bus or taxi.

“Still, let’s wrap this up quick.”

“No argument here,” Natasha responded.

They continued in relative silence, Clint’s focus fixed on the warehouse. His years in the field had honed his skills, making him a tremendous asset to SHIELD and then the Avengers. But he failed to see the figure hugging tight to the shadows behind him.

Her steps were completely silent, not a single grain of gravel shifting as she crept closer to the spy. She took a moment to appraise him, noting the bow he grasped tightly and the various knives and pistols strapped to his hip.

None of it swayed her.

She had no intention of disappointing her komandir.

_Hail, HYDRA…_

She managed to get her garrotte around his neck in the blink of an eye and tugged back violently. He fought against her hold, dropping his bow to grasp her hands. 

Her target gasped for breath, attempting to elbow her in the ribs and failing.

She caught him reaching for the earpiece that kept him in contact with his accomplice, and elbowed his hand away as she heaved him onto his side.

He made another jab for freedom, reaching his arm back to grab a handful of her hair from the tight bun she’d secured it in. His fingers dug in, tugging at the roots and tearing free a chunk.

Hissing, she twisted violently, ignoring the burning sensation on her scalp, to wedge her arm between his and slam his arm down and away from her head. Furious, she grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm back as she held the garrotte tight with one hand. He groaned, resisting her all the way. The tension continued to build until she felt the bone snap from the pressure and a strangled shout of pain left the spy.

She refocused her effort on the garrotte, relaxing only when his entire body went limp. Sighing in relief, she heaved the limp man off of her and began rooting through his pockets. She wasn’t expecting a blatant clue that revealed just how much he and his associates knew, but she was curious nonetheless.

She could faintly hear the man’s associate calling for him from the discarded earpiece and quickened her pace, smirking in delight when she found a separate com device in his jacket pocket. Pulling it out, she flipped open the display and was unsurprised to find it locked and encrypted.

Pleased nonetheless, she pocketed it and stood, checking her own com for an update from the komandir.

She didn’t have time to really look though when a gunshot broke the silence of the night and struck her in the shoulder.

She whipped around, ignoring the pain automatically, and crouched down low to find the man’s companion running across the adjacent rooftop toward her. Drawing her PSM pistol and firing off two shots at the enraged redhead. 

Both missed and she took the small window of time she had to stand and make a running leap off the rooftop, landing in a roll on the roof of a lower building. Righting herself, she continued to run, the sound of the redhead’s shouts and gunshots echoing around her.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“She got Barton,” Natasha reported with a heavy heart, “He’s alive but she did a hell of a number on him. Bruised ribs, broken right arm, and his neck his all torn up…he won’t be talking for a while.”

She glanced over her shoulder to the cot Clint was stretched out on. Various machines were hooked up to him, monitoring his vitals, and beeping away softly.

“Did you get a good look at her?” Tony asked.

Natasha turned back to the monitor.

Tony looked like hell. He may be a sarcastic ass, but she knew he cared about everyone on the team. Clint’s current condition hit him hard, even though he’d never admit it.

Behind him stood Steve; looking equally solemn.

“She was wearing impressive tactical gear, was weighted down with weapons. She had dark hair…white. Couldn’t see much more; she was wearing a mask like Barnes used to. Got a shot on her, the shoulder I think.”

Tony nodded, “Right, get back as soon as you can. I have Doctor Cho on standby for Clint. Wanda and Speedy just got back from Romania, so we’ll get them up to speed and get ahead of this.”

Natasha sighed, looking back at her fallen friend.

“Think we’re too late for that, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Moy Rebenok’ = my child  
> ‘Soldat’ = Soldier  
> ‘Moroz’ = Frost  
> ‘Rozhdeniye’ = Birth  
> ‘Porvannyy’ = Torn  
> ‘Voskhod’ = Sunrise  
> ‘Gotovy soblyudat’ = Ready to comply
> 
> *I'm not fluent in Russian and therefore there may be mistakes in the translations.


	4. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As one of their own recovers, Steve leads a small team south...while their quarry heads north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments, dear readers!
> 
> I promise everyone is going to meet our secret HYDRA agent very soon! ;)

She slowly donned her leather jacket, mindful of the patch-job she’d done on her shoulder.

The last safe house she’d hit allowed her to restock her ammo and arms, pick up rations, and begin work on the com device she’d swiped from the archer. HYDRA’s advanced tech allowed her to interrupt the GPS on it and bypass the security fields to take a glimpse at the data inside.

The device contained little regarding the archer’s mission beyond it being recon but she was able to gain something from it. The two she’d encountered had been Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff – former spies and SHIELD agents who were now among the Avengers. 

So, they got the message, she thought happily to herself.

A quick search of the resources and files HYDRA provided her gave her access to the full Avengers roster.

Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Samuel Wilson, Vision, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Thor, and…

Bucky Barnes.

As she settled into her seat on the train, her duffle bag between her feet, she ran through the list again and again in her mind. It was an ambitious task, attempting to take them all down, and one she knew she unfortunately had to put off a little longer.

HYDRA wanted the last of the loose threads from the Triskelion taken out, which meant Rumlow needed to be dead before she could redirect her efforts toward the Avengers. She never left a job incomplete and tackling the Avengers…Bucky…was personal.

Rollins’ intel helped her take out three more lower-tiered pawns in the D.C. area, the last giving her the tip that put her on the train.

Rumlow had a base of operations in New York City, one he worked out of when he dared come State-side.

That the Avengers compound was also in New York as well was the main source of her current excitement. Going after them on their home turf was a strangely titillating idea but she knew that despite her talents, she couldn’t take them all on at once.

She knew she needed to temper her excitement. Going in gun’s blazing would end with her death and dying before making the Winter Soldier suffer wasn’t an option.

\-------------------------------------------------

Pietro beat Wanda off the quinjet, using his powers to zip ahead of her to the elevator doors. Leaning against the wall, a shit-eating grin on his face, he watched his sister approach; unconcerned by the annoyance in her eyes.

It was something he was abundantly familiar with.

“You’re a sore loser, sister.”

Wanda frowned, “I wasn’t aware it was a competition.”

He laughed, “It always is! And I took down double what you did!”

“It isn’t always a race, Pietro.”

His retort was cut off by a synthetic voice filling the small hanger. 

“Mister Stark requests your presence in the conference room on the 6th floor,” FRIDAY spoke, her voice even and ever-polite, “He’s requested all Avengers head there immediately.”

Pietro scoffed and saluted the camera he’d spotted nearest the elevator, “At once, Miss FRIDAY!”

He and Wanda entered the elevator in silence, and FRIDAY took over from there, utilizing her control of the entire complex to raise them upward.

As they passed the 3rd floor, Pietro glanced to Wanda from the corner of his eye.

They’d been a part of the Avengers not even a year and it was still uncomfortable sometimes. He knew Wanda felt the same. Tony Stark was the bomb that nearly killed them as children; that had deprived them of their parents and shaped their lives so profoundly. While the scuffle in Sokovia with Ultron showed them both a very different side of Stark, letting go of their anger wasn’t something that was going to happen overnight.

But beyond the awkwardness of working with Stark, it wasn’t so bad. Pietro found helping people, taking down remnants of HYDRA or whatever insane group reared its head that week, very satisfying. He felt as though he had purpose for the first time since he was a child, cowering under a bed amongst the rubble of their home with Wanda.

But no matter how much had changed, his delight at pushing his sister’s buttons hadn’t.

“I could give you pointers, yes?”

The corner of Wanda’s lips pulled up into a half-smirk and Pietro grinned in delight, elbowing her playfully.

“You are an ass,” she bit back.

“Yes, but what would you do without me?”

She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors opened and FRIDAY announced that they’d reached their floor.

Wanda stepped out first.

“Worry less? Have fewer grey hairs?”

Pietro gave a snort of laughter and she spun around, stopping him with a hand to his chest.

“I’m serious; Pietro,” she said sternly, “keep pulling shit like that and you’ll get yourself shot.”

“I’d have to slow down for any of them to get a shot on me!”

“Piet –

“Wonder twins,” Stark called from the door to a conference room down the hall, “we’re waiting.”

\-----------------------------------------

The conference room was surprisingly full. 

All the chairs taken, he stood next to Wanda and Sam along the windowed wall, arms crossed as he waited for someone to explain what the hell was going on. He wasn’t the only one confused though. Nearby, Bucky whispered something to Steve, the former donning an alert and agitated expression.

At the head of the table, to Stark’s right, sat an exhausted looking Natasha.

Pietro’s curiosity only grew.

“Alright people,” Stark began, “as all of you are aware, we’ve recently received evidence of an assassin operating in D.C. Nat and Clint went to investigate the possibility of this being a HYDRA agent.”

He looked to Nat, who continued for him.

“We went to the warehouse Rollin’s body was discovered in, with Clint keeping an eye on things outside. The agent jumped him.”

“He alright?” Sam asked.

Nat looked solemn, shaken, but nodded.

“Barton’s got a broken arm, fractured ribs, garotte wounds on his neck, and a concussion,” Tony continued, “Cho’s patching him up as we speak.”

“Has he been able to tell us anything more about who attacked him?” Steve asked.

“Just that she came out of the shadows.”

“She?” Sam spoke up, “Are we sure?”

Nat nodded, “Positive. I only caught the tail end of their scuffle but that coupled with the mess she made of Clint…she’s exceptionally well trained.”

“You said she was wearing a tactical mask,” Steve began, “like the one Buck used to.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat beside Steve. It was subtle, a tension in his shoulders and slight shift of the chair, but Pietro noticed. One look at Wanda told him she had too.

What had the former Winter Soldier so ill at ease? This was hardly the first mission involving HYDRA he’d been faced with since joining up…

Nat nodded.

“Don’t suppose anything about this chick jogs your memory, Barnes?” Tony asked, arms crossed at the head of the table.  
Pietro looked to Bucky.

Bucky shrugged, “Not the description. But…the photo from the crime scene…something about it is.”

“Something?”

He looked pained, like he was wrestling with something in his own mind.

“The stabbing…how she did it,” he ran his flesh hand through his hair, “I’m sorry…I honestly can’t remember anything more than that.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said softly.

“Well, whoever she is, she went on to kill three more in D.C. after her run in with Barton,” Tony continued, shooting a suspicious look at Bucky, “all three men were former SHIELD agents. If she really is out there cleaning house for HYDRA, it makes sense Rumlow would be on her list.”

“Our last reports have him in Nigeria,” Nat voiced.

“I’ll reach out to some old friends,” Fury added, up till this point silent from his seat opposite Nat, “He has to have some connections here to keep the money flowing his way. He’s been…vocal since the Triskelion; makes sense HYDRA would want to shut him up.”

In the end, it was decided Bucky, Natasha, and Steve would go back to D.C. to follow leads. Everyone else was eager be of use, but Fury urged caution. 

“We can’t have all our eggs in one basket. We don’t know for sure that she’s stayed in D.C. and if the shit hits the fan somewhere else, we’ll need you at the ready.”

“Besides,” Tony interjected with a smirk, “there’s no way you’re all missing my party.”

Pietro perked up, shooting Wanda a knowing, excited look when she elbowed him in the ribs.

He didn’t care what the reason was, he always loved Tony’s parties. Free drinks, good food…and plenty of guests with loose, expensive jewellery and thick wallets. 

He may have left the slums of Sokovia, but some habits were harder to kick than others.

“It’s for charity, so I expect everyone who isn’t going to D.C. to be there,” Tony turned and pointed an accusatory finger at Pietro, “and I expect you, Mister Sticky-Fingers, to keep your hands to yourself.”  
Pietro feigned ignorance, shrugging, “I’ve no idea of what you speak, Mister Stark.”

“Unless you want to spend that night helping Banner in the lab, you’re going to swear, right here in front of witnesses, that you won’t steal at my party!”

Pietro groaned. The last time he’d been relegated to the labs as Banner’s assistant, he’d spent twelve hours watching Banner work and fetching items the doctor called out for. It was miserable, no better than watching paint dry.

“Fine!” he grumbled, raising his right hand, “I promise.”

\-------------------------------------

A few days later, she found herself in a dingy New York studio apartment with a party to prepare for.

She stepped out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel as she stepped into the bedroom and approached her opened suitcase. She didn’t bother tying a towel around her body, she was alone and had already covered the only mirror in the apartment with a garbage bag and duct tape.

Standing naked before the well-stocked suitcase, she felt oddly eager.

So many of her missions were covert – assassinations, infiltrations – she so rarely got to mingle among the rabble. Her pulse quickened in excitement. 

She selected matching black lace panties and a bra, slipping both on before debating between the two dresses she’d been provided with. One was a thick-strapped black leather dress she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get into it was so form-fitting. It had the plunging neckline she liked, but she passed, needing something long-sleeved to conceal her badly scarred arms. 

She opted for the navy blue dress that had the sleeves she needed but still highlighted her generous curves. She fastened a seemingly decorative belt around her waist, smirking to herself in quiet amusement as her fingers brushed over the small handle of the concealed knife it contained.

It was going to be a hell of an evening.


	5. Across the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HYDRA's agent makes her move and one Avenger bears the brunt of her wrath...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay folks! REALLY wanted to get this right since it essentially kicks everything off - let me know your thoughts!!!
> 
> P.S. I'm going to be crazy busy the next few weeks. I'm starting a new job, organising a move to a new town, and juggling a few other things...if I'm silent - hang in there! I'm trying guys!
> 
> Thanks :)

She slipped into the party easily enough, hooking her arm around that of a heavily intoxicated older man. She smiled and batted her eyelashes as they passed security without any trouble.

The tower was impressive, though she supposed it had to be. Until the incident in Sokovia, the tower served as a base of operations for the Avengers. It had been repurposed since then, to what she didn’t care, but she had high hopes for it tonight.

While the Avengers had moved to a new facility upstate, she had no doubt remnants of its former purpose lingered. HYDRA had outfitted her with the tech she’d need to sneak a peek into their server and from there her goal was intel on their current ops. She wanted to know exactly what they knew – about her, her targets, and HYDRA. 

If she found out more about the Winter Soldier and his allies in the meantime, she’d consider it a success.

Ditching the drunkard, she snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a server, and weaved her way through the crowd. 

She knew whatever Avengers were present would be nearer the penthouse. 

The idea of seeing them in the flesh was strangely exciting. After all she’d read, all HYDRA had provided her, she was going to see for herself if they lived up to the hype.

The volume of the music lessened as she ascended an ultra-modern staircase. The crowd thinned out as well, the majority of the rabble being occupied with the open bar and large dance floor a few levels down.

Casually sipping her champagne, she found a free table near the balcony and sit down, keen on taking in the sights. She crossed her legs, slipping the heel free from the pinching stiletto to let it dangle from her toes as she scanned the room.

She recognized a few faces from the files she’d reviewed the night before. Sam Wilson was nearby, circling the pool table as he laughed at a brow-beaten Bruce Banner. Tony Stark was entertaining a group of guests near the bar, the lovely Pepper Potts on his arm. Wanda sat with Vision in a quiet corner, seemingly in their own little world.

They seemed…normal. 

If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume they were just average people enjoying a party.

Sipping her champagne, she noticed someone had joined Sam and Bruce at the pool table. She barely managed to keep her surprise from her features. How did she miss him?

Taking a closer look, she realized she recognized the man from the files HYDRA had provided her and realized why he’d escaped her notice.

Pietro Maximoff.

One of only two survivors of Strucker’s experiments, she’d heard of him and his sister prior to being provided the intel for her current mission. But while she’d heard the rumors coming out of Sokovia and seen Strucker’s reports, she’d had her doubts they were entirely truthful. After all, how could a sceptre, an artifact, change people so profoundly that they developed superhuman abilities?

Regardless of her doubts, what she couldn’t argue was that the grainy, blurry picture included in his file did not do him justice.

His smile was…

He…he was…

He was handsome…and the moment the thought entered her mind she was startled by it. Many times, her missions involved seducing targets and each time she went to a secret place in her head to escape what she had to do. She never looked at her targets as individuals, they were tasks. She never looked at any man whose path she crossed as anything more than that as well. A task. They might as well have been faceless.

But Pietro…wow.

Tall and lean, the tailored button down he wore hugged his muscled chest and arms perfectly. He’d rolled up his sleeves and he wore sneakers with his black trousers. His hair, so dark at the roots and lighter at the ends, had been brushed back although stubborn strands hung in his eyes. She smirked, unable to deny her amusement at his obvious attempt to ‘blend in’ with the rabble that was failing so horribly.

As she took another small sip of her drink, she felt his eyes on her and looked up from her drink.

It was Sam’s turn and while Bruce was gripping the edge of the table, clearly caught up in the intensity of the game, Pietro’s focus was entirely on her.

She felt strangely breathless.

Lowering her champagne flute to the table, she licked her lips and toyed with the hem of her skirt. It grazed the top of her knee, but as she eyed the awestruck Sokovian she oh-so-slowly brushed the edge of her skirt with her finger tips, raising it somewhat to give him a teasing glimpse of her thigh.

Pietro roughly handed Bruce his cue stick, started to walk around the table, and in the blink of an eye was suddenly standing right before her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

He felt someone’s gaze on his back and thinking it was Wanda shooting him a warning glare, he spun around, a teasing quip ready on his lips, only to be silenced by the sight of a gorgeous brunette eyeing him from across the room.

He instantly forgot about the game.

Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders in waves, small sections from around her face pulled back. She was pale and freckled, and even from a distance he could tell she was hardly wearing any makeup. Her dress had the same simple elegance, the blue absolutely stunning on her.

Pietro watched her fiddle with her skirt, saw the fabric fall back ever so slightly, allowing him a glimpse of her shapely thigh.

Swallowing hard, Pietro couldn’t help but gawk.

How the hell was this woman sitting alone?

Not bothering to offer Sam or Bruce an explanation, he handed them his pool cue and used his powers to reach her in a heartbeat, finally close enough to better appreciate her.

She didn’t seem the least bit surprised by his display, merely smiling sweetly as she absentmindedly spun her flute of champagne on the table, her vibrant hazel eyes fixed on him.

“Where is the idiot who left you all alone, printsessa?” he asked, unable to tear his gaze from her lips as bit the inside of her cheek.

She shrugged, “He wandered off, which is a blessing really. I don’t think I’ve been on a worse date.”

Smirking, Pietro reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

His gaze never faltered from hers.

There was a cockiness in his eyes she noted immediately, but as she settled in and felt his lips on her skin, she saw more than that.

And it shook her.

“I’m Pietro, and you deserve a far better drink, Miss…?”

“Irina,” she said, unsure where the name had come from the second it left her lips.

It wasn’t the identity she’d decided on before leaving the safehouse for the party, nor the name of any she’d ever used before.

It was…odd, but she rolled with it, knowing the façade still needed to remain in place if she was to be successful.

She’d be damned if she was going to let some pretty, blue-eyed Sokovian throw her off her game.

“A beautiful name,” Pietro continued, “shall we?”

He offered her his arm and she pushed her champagne across the table, stepping down from her seat to stand before him. Nearly chest to chest, Irina had a hard time breathing. She swallowed hard. Even in her heels he was taller than her, imposing and impossibly beautiful.

Cursing herself inwardly, she urged forward.

She hooked her arm around his and smirked up at him, “Lead on, handsome.”

Irina allowed him to guide her through the gaggle of guests to a more secluded bar toward the back of the room. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as the humongous one she spotted as she ascended the stairs, but she could see it was well stocked and it was crowded with less guests, so she didn’t protest.

Pietro pulled out a bar stool for her, winking at her as she eyed him curiously. 

“Are all Sokovian gentlemen so chivalrous?” Irina asked, crossing her legs and adjusting her skirt across her knees as he sat beside her.

“You know I am of Sokovia?” 

“I’ve an ear for accents,” she shrugged, “and I may be a bit of an Avengers fan. You and your sister made headlines when you joined up.”

“Where are you from?”

“Russia originally,” she said without hesitation, “My mother brought me with her to the States when I was very young, lost my accent years ago.”

“A shame, to lose that part of you,” he offered, his expression soft and kind.

Irina forced a smile, “I was young and foolish…I wanted to be like everyone else.”

“No one is like you, printsessa.”

“Do you say that to all the lonely ladies you entice with that charm, Pietro?” Irina scoffed, playfully nudging his foot with her own.

He laughed and flagged down the bartender, “You wound me, Irina. What would you like?”

Licking her lips, she glanced up at the bartender and requested a martini with a lemon twist before turning her attention back to Pietro.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, printsessa. So, tell me about this wandering date of yours.”

Irina groaned, slumping slightly in her chair in defeat, “God, you don’t really want to know do you?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes and a cocky grin on his lips, “Yes, I do. Now more than ever.”

She grumbled but they were interrupted by the bartender returning with their drinks. She sipped her martini and gave a satisfied hum.

“Perfect,” she sighed, enjoying another sip.

“My thoughts exactly,” Pietro muttered, smirking when she looked up from her drink to find his gaze upon her.

Blushing, she kicked his shin, “Cheeky devil.”

He shrugged, “I am honest, printsessa. I call things as I see them. Life is far too short for anything else.”

She nodded, more to herself then him, as she sipped her drink and considered his words. 

“Speaking of honesty…your date…”

Irina sat her drink down and rolled her eyes, “No one of consequence. A friend from work set us up and we went out for coffee once. It was alright I guess. Then he comes up and asks me to come here with him…and I thought it’d be nice to dance and maybe meet a superhero.”

“Well,” Pietro mused as he sat up straight in his seat, “I wouldn’t say I’m a superhero…”

Irina gave a snort of laughter, the cocky-ass look he was giving her just too much.

“I mean…I haven’t the uniform like the Captain…”

She’d seen pictures of Captain America, both from HYDRA and on television, and unwittingly the image of Pietro in that get-up entered her mind.

Grinning madly, Irina reached out and grasped his knee, “But darling, not all of us can pull off star-spangled spanx! No need to beat yourself up!”

Pietro caught himself before he snorted the beer he was drinking out his nose, clasping his hand over his mouth and nose as he struggled to breathe and swallow the expensive brew.

Irina leaned back in laughter, a hand on her stomach and the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

Still laughing, Pietro used the small square of a napkin under his beer to dry his mouth. 

“You,” he said, pointing a finger at her, “are evil.”

“Guilty,” she muttered, winking at him as she took another drink of her martini.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn’t know how it happened. If her superiors asked, she had no idea what she’d tell them.

Of all the scenarios she’d run through her head before leaving the safehouse, this was not one of them.

Everything in her was screaming at her to stop, to reset her focus, but a part of her she never knew she possessed urged her to continue, to follow him.

So she did.

Clutching Pietro’s hand tightly as he led her through the growing crowd on the penthouse floor, she felt her chest tighten and her heart race in pure excitement.

He glanced back at her and she could see the same delight in his eyes, feel it in the gentle but firm grasp he had on her.

_Holy hell, what’s happening…_

He laughed when they reached the door he’d spotted from the bar, the one that held the promise of some degree of privacy. His back against it, Irina hurried close to him, pressing her hands to his chest and travelling upward to tangle in his hair when he gave a contented sigh. Pressing herself against him, she felt every inch of his muscled form relax as they touched.

Pietro looked down at her in awe. He hadn’t even gotten his lips on hers and already he was gone, ruined. Her pert, full breasts straining against the rich fabric of her dress as she pressed against him. Her fingers did wonders in his hair and her hips…lord, but her hips…

As he fumbled with the door handle, realizing it was a ‘pull’ and not a ‘push’ too late, Irina’s hands descended from his hair and trailed agonizingly slow across his chest. As she neared his belt, she bit her lip.

Cursing under his breath, he separated from her just long enough to open the door and pull her into the hallway.

The sounds of the party now muted, all he could hear was his own erratic breathing and thundering heartbeat.

She stared at him from under her dark eyelashes, her back to the wall. With a needy pout, she reached out and grabbed him by his belt, using it to pull him closer to her.

Overwhelmed, Pietro kissed her brow as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He took a deep breath, hoping to steady himself, only to be sent spinning by the fresh scent of her shampoo mixed with her perfume.

Leaning down so his cheek was to her temple, he licked his lips as he struggled to find his voice against the sensation of her body pressed against his.

“Irina…printsessa…you’ve been drinking…”

She kissed his cheek, lips lingering along his jawline, “So have you…”

Pietro cleared his throat, ready to hit her with another dose of sobering reason, only to be rendered mute as she stood on her tippy-toes and kissed his neck.

His hands fell to her hips and when she nipped at his skin, he reached around to grab her ass.

A whimper of excitement left her and Pietro dove in, kissing her with fury, intent on devouring her.

How can she be so soft? So perfect?

Painfully hard, there was no hiding what she was doing to him and when she rolled her hips against him he growled into their kiss and lifted her up in one motion. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

Taking that split second to suck in air and take in the raw, exposed look in his eyes, Irina felt lightheaded.

The way he was looking at her…touched her…

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized he was savoring her.

As if wanting to drive the point home, his strong hands ran up and down her back, grazing over the zipper of her dress but making no move to rid her of it.

She peppered kisses along his jaw and lips, tears burning behind her closed eyes.

This can’t last…

He started down the hall to the small room he and Wanda had stashed their gear in, eager for more privacy and time then a side hallway offered him.

Her eyes opened at the sensation of the doorknob jabbing into her hip and hugged herself closer to him.

His nose brushed against hers, the warmth of his breath tickled her lips.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his grip on her hips tightening, “printsessa…my printsessa…”

No, cried her dominating voice of ‘reason’.

Yes, cried her heart; her body.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t….

HYDRA.

Her mission – THE mission.

It was a façade, a lie concocted in a safehouse. She wasn’t Irina. She wasn’t what he wanted, needed…deserved.

She was no one.

A lie, a ghost. 

A soldier.

As he finally managed to get the door open and they stumbled into the small room, she renewed the fervor of their kiss.

He sat her down on a crate, watching her closely as he ran his hands up her skirt to caress her thighs.

That’s when he saw her tears.

Pulling back, horrified at himself, he cupped her face in his hands and searched her eyes for answers.

“Irina, darling…”

Reaching up, she hooked her fingers on the collar of his shirt and pulled him down so their lips were mere millimeters apart.

“I…I just…Pietro, I…need…”

“Tell me,” he whispered, “whatever you need, printsessa, I’ll –

She silenced him with a kiss and he relaxed against her, his fingers running lightly up and down her back as he held her.

Steeling herself, she brought a hand down from his cheek, settling it on his neck.

Pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and giving it a gentle suckle, she found the spot along the curve of his neck she was looking for and applied just a hint of pressure.

She released his lip, going back in for another kiss and tenderly flicking her tongue across his abused lower lip.

Irina muttered his name breathlessly.

He smiled into their kiss and she pressed her fingers hard into the sweet-spot she was looking for. 

He winced and slumped against her, unconscious in seconds.

Gritting her teeth, she berated herself inwardly as she moved him off her and he slumped to the floor, leaning awkwardly against another crate.

She stood and righted her dress, her gaze poised upward as she attempted to will away her tears.

_I am an arm of HYDRA. I live to execute its will, its orders. I am nothing, no one. Nameless._

She straightened herself and pulled the hidden knife from her belt.

Looking down at Pietro, she was now hyper aware of the sand running through the hourglass. She’d struck, which meant she needed to find the server she needed immediately and get out before she was caught.

But looking down at him now, knife in hand…it felt heavy…

Reaching up with her free hand to touch her kiss-swollen lips, she cursed herself for her weakness.

_He’s nothing…a foolish, naïve, pretty-boy Sokovian who’s too fucking stupid to see how little he matters!_

“Fuck,” she muttered, returning her knife to its hiding place.

Her mission was too important to risk on someone as weak as him.

Slipping from the room, she forced herself not to steal a look back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Printsessa’ = Princess


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Pietro recovers from his close encounter with Irina, Steve catches a glimpse of someone familiar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, folks! I moved and then was without internet for an ungodly amount of time but I'm back! 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, dear readers. It hints at something HUGE at the very end that I've been dying to get to - so I hope you are all pleasantly surprised by it!
> 
> My apologies for the cliff-hanger, but hopefully the wait for the next chapter won't be too long ;)

Tony watched the security footage again, pausing the second Pietro and the agent stumbled into the storage room. He’d watched it numerous times and yet his anger had yet to abate. 

Pietro’s lady-friend had left him unconscious and started her true rampage through the tower. A small device fetched from a hidden compartment in one of her rings, placed strategically near an interface, made Friday mute. The AI saw what was happening but was unable to communicate any warnings. 

From there, she slipped past a dozen armed, trained security guards into a private wing of the tower. In less than five minutes, she had her fingers in the tower’s server and was downloading copies of everything the Avenger’s had compiled on HYDRA in the last five years.

Suspected agents, locations on incarcerated agents imprisoned across the United States, blueprints, addresses…but most disturbing was the intel on the Avenger’s themselves.

Aliases, safe house locations, health records…

Tony sighed heavily as he ran his fingers through his hair, straining to find some clue in what she had taken that revealed her identity. 

That she was HYDRA was clear enough. What Tony didn’t get, what he couldn’t wrap his head around, was why she’d spared Pietro.

And why, if she was so skilled and valuable to HYDRA, had they not heard so much of a whisper of her prior to the party.

What clear shots of her face they’d managed to obtain from security footage didn’t match any of the images they’d complied of know and suspected agents – she was a ghost.

Tony barely registered the hiss of the lab door opening, but the air of righteousness that Steve Rogers brought with him was impossible to miss.

“What do you want?” he groaned, gaze still fixed on the screen.

“Find anything yet?

“Not a damn thing,” Tony grumbled.

“Pietro wanted to speak with you –

“Good for him.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed, “this wasn’t his fault.”

“Bull,” he snapped, glaring at Steve, “and you know it. A pretty girl bats her eyelashes at him and his brain jumped out the window!”

“He’s a young man, Tony,” Steve reasoned, his voice even as he looked at the screen, “don’t tell me you never –

Tony stood up abruptly from his seat, sending the chair shooting out behind him. He slammed his fist on the table and looked at Steve with dark, angry eyes.

“She took everything! Everything we had on HYDRA over the last five years, personal information about every Avenger! How are you not just as pissed as I am, Steve?”

“I am,” he said sternly, “but how about instead of brooding over it we go over what we know, talk to Pietro, and figure out what the hell HYDRA is up to?”

\----------------------------------------

Pietro groaned, tossing away the thawing ice pack and accepting the fresh one offered by the nurse. He’d initially protested being confined to the medical wing, besides the throbbing ache in his head and his bruised ego, he felt fine. But after Tony and the others realised everything that had happened, all the agent had gotten into, the medical bay was the safest place for him to be.

He’d always prided himself as being strong enough not to care what others thought of him. Wanda had been his sole friend and only family for years, she’d been the only person that mattered to him for years. But since joining the Avengers, working and living with them…well, he thought his circle of friends might be growing.

Now though…everyone in the compound was pissed at him.

And worst of all he couldn’t blame them.

The agent had gotten into everything. The blueprints and intel on various HYDRA agents didn’t bother him, but that she’d managed to get into everyone’s personal records…

Hell, Clint had a family!

Sighing heavily, he ran his hands through his hair, cursing himself for his stupidity. But even as that thought crossed his mind, the memory of just how soft and perfect she was reappeared. If he focused hard enough on the memory, he could feel the lingering touch of her lips on his neck…the sinfully wonderful tightening of her legs around his hips…

The tears in her eyes before he felt the pinch on his neck just before passing out…

The door to his room opened and he turned to find Tony, Steve, Nat, and Wanda filing in. Wanda was the only one that didn’t glare at him, offering him a small, encouraging smile as the others sat down.

“So,” Tony started, “lover-boy…”

“Tony,” Steve warned, rolling his eyes and shooting him a stern look.

He raised his hands defensively, “Forgive me for not playing nice with the idiot who –

“He could hardly have known, Tony,” Nat interjected, much to Pietro’s surprise. 

“Tell that to all of the agents we’ve got to relocate because of what she got into,” Tony snapped, “Tell that to Clint who had to have his entire family relocated because this guy,” he waved at Pietro, “wanted to get lucky!”

Nat snorted, “Tony do you remember at all what you were like just a few years ago?”

“Alright,” Steve said, brow furrowed in growing frustration, “Pietro, do you remember anything about the agent?”

He shrugged, gaze downcast, “What does it matter? I’m sure the security cameras caught the whole show.”

“Just poke around in his head and tell us something, Wanda,” Tony grumbled.

“I’d rather not,” Wanda said quickly, “peaking into my brother’s head to see what he did and felt with a beautiful assassin? No thank you.”

Steve laughed, earning him a dirty look from Tony.

“Can you just tell us what you remember, Pietro?” Nat asked, “We need to find this woman. She almost killed you and Clint and with what she took –

“You know, she can’t be all that amazing if her last two attempts on Avengers ended with them not dying,” Tony said, more to himself than anyone else.

Nat kicked him before turning back to Pietro, eager for an answer.

“She said her name was Irina,” he began with a heavy sigh, “didn’t think to ask for a last name. She said she was from Russia but had been in the States for years.”

“Why did she say she was at the party?”

“A date, never saw the guy though.”

“Earlier footage showed her entering with an older man,” Friday interjected, “she left his side as soon as she passed security and almost immediately headed for the stairs.”

“She knew where everyone would be,” Steve wondered aloud.

“Do you remember anything else, Piet?” Wanda offered, her voice gentle.

He shook his head, “We were flirting, I didn’t think to ask why she was really there or if she was really a secret assassin sent by HYDRA to kill us all.”

There was an awkward silence and he tried to think of something, anything that would help them but came up with nothing.

“Well that was helpful,” Tony grumbled.

“Mister Stark, I’m –

He raised his hand, “Save it, kid. You know it’s going to be damn hard finding her when she knows all the HYDRA safehouses we know of in the tri-State area.”

“I’ll go off the grid,” Nat offered, “they’d have cleared out of the locations we know of but its worth checking out.

Steve nodded, “I’ll join you on that, if that’s alright.”

Nat nodded and left to get started on preparations. Tony and Steve followed soon after, leaving the twins alone.

“Are you alright, brother?” Wanda asked quietly as she took a seat next to him on the cot.

He shook his head, jaw tense.

“No one could have known, Piet.”

“Everyone is in danger because of what happened…”

“Not your fault,” Wanda said, poking him in the shoulder, “hers, Piet, it was her fault.”

“But she was,” he sighed heavily, “Wanda she was amazing…”

Wanda chuckled, “Do I really want to hear this?”

He elbowed her hard and rolled his eyes.

“No, Wanda, I mean it…she was…sweet and funny and so insanely beautiful. I…really liked talking with her. And…just before she, you know, knocked me out…she seemed…sad.”

“Sad?” Wanda questioned, brow arched in disbelief, “you are telling me the assassin was sad?”

“Wanda, she was crying.”

“Wh…what?”

“I know…I don’t really understand it either.”

“Do you think…maybe you’re remembering wrong?”

Without hesitation, Pietro shook his head. As confusing as the entire thing was, what he remembered vividly was the softness of her lips…and the teary look she’d given him right before that final kiss.

Maybe…maybe she didn’t want to do what she did?

The second the thought entered his mind he knew it was stupid. Given all she’d done after leaving him unconscious in that closet, it was hard to believe she’d gone soft for him. 

“I don’t know…I just…thought it was real.”

Wanda smiled and nudged him, “Perhaps you just are not so good a kisser?”

He gave a small laugh; but said nothing.

Wanda playfully slapped his hand, “Come, let’s find you something to eat, then see if we can help the others.”

\--------------------------------------------------

Irina finished packing up the last of her supplies from the safehouse. She’d tossed the dress and shoes from the Stark party, forwarded the intel she’d obtained to her superiors, and was about to leave the safehouse – and the city – when she found herself linger on the tabs holding the secret compartment of her weapons case closed.

It was stupid and risky, to have hidden there what she did. She was HYDRA’s weapon, a killer in their name, she didn’t have time for…

Maybe it was why she hesitated last night, she wondered. 

A killer with a hidden drawer of fragments of memories she could only remember faintly…it left the floodgate open for more mistakes…more moments of weakness.

Like letting the Sokovian live…

Grumbling under her breath, she closed her weapons case and was in the middle of double-checking the apartment for anything she might have left behind when a faint sound, no more than a whisper caught her attention. Her entire body went rigid, the hairs on her arms on edge. She reached for the pistol she’d tucked under her duffle bag on her bed and waited.

The door to her room open and closed behind her and she smiled.

“Dobryy vecher, chernaya vdova,” Irina said calmly, not bothering to turn around.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Natasha said, gun raised, “awfully disappointing, ubiytsa.”

“Moi izvineniya,” Irina released her hold on her gun and turned, smiling at the angry red-head.

“Why the hell are you after us?” Natasha asked, practically vibrating with fury.

The second their gazes met, and she had a moment to look at the woman who’d nearly killed her best friend, something flashed in Natasha’s eyes.  
Confusion…and maybe…recognition.

Irina’s smile only grew.

“Why? I’m an arm of HYDRA, I live to execute its will. I received orders.”

“Well, so do I.”

Irina moved the second Natasha squeezed the trigger, ducking to take her out at the stomach and knocking her gun out of her hands as the two women crashed through the doorway. She landed on top of the red head and immediately wrapped her hands around the woman’s neck, squeezing as hard as she could muster.

“Which of your friends is outside, chernaya vdova?” Irina hissed, her nails digging into the other woman’s neck, “or were you stupid enough to come alone?”

Black spots clouded her vision and she risked moving a hand from Irina’s to reach around her for something, anything.

Natasha’s fingers grazed a piece of the broken door frame and grabbing it, made a move for Irina’s stomach, nicking her side as Irina twisted to dodge her attack.

Natasha took full advantage of the opening, moving to roll on top of her and landing a hard blow to the side of her head followed in close succession but another to her chin. 

“That,” Natasha said between deep, heaving breaths, “was for Clint!”

Despite the stinging pain across her cheekbone, Irina laughed.

Such sentimentality coming from a killer, someone no better than herself…

She couldn’t help herself.

As Natasha hit her again, Irina grabbed hold of the front of her armored suit for leverage and brought the jagged piece of door frame she had in her other hand up and into Natasha’s stomach.

The red-head went still, her eyes wide. Blood appeared on her lips and Irina pushed the piece of wood deeper into the woman’s gut until she could feel tension leave the woman’s limbs. Heaving the woman off her and pulling the make-shift weapon free, she stood over her.

“How disappointing, chernaya vdova,” she said as she looked down at the woman.

She saw something flutter in Natasha’s eyes and only had a moment to register it before a quick kick swept her legs out from underneath her and landed her on her back. To her surprise, Natasha renewed her attack with vigor, hitting her hard enough to break ribs before scrambling to her feet.

The wounded widow scrambled down the hallway, trailing blood as she went. Irina saw her touch her ear, likely activating a communication device, before reaching down to grab a knife from her boot.

Practically growling, Irina grabbed on to the metal railing along the stucco wall and, with a firm jerk, pulled a length of metal free. She swung wildly at the red-head, just missing her but succeeding in breaking a window and taking a chunk out of the wall.

Natasha took the brief opening she saw, lunging at the woman, her knife finding purchase in her shoulder. 

Screaming a curse, Irina grabbed Natasha by the shoulder and spun her around, sending her crashing through the railing and falling through the stairwell. 

Irina stood on the landing, breathing heavily as she looked down at the woman, curled up in a heap. Knowing she needed to finish the woman off, Irina leapt down the stairwell with ease, landing on her feet five stories down.

Natasha tried scrambling to her feet but only managed to get to her knees. She was pale and weak, swaying slightly where she knelt, but there was still anger in her eyes.

She wasn’t done yet.

As she scoured the foyer for a piece of wood or metal to her liking, Irina thought she’d make it interesting.

“You know,” she began, “I had hoped Captain Rogers…or perhaps the Winter Soldier would have come for me. They’re much higher up on my list of people to kill then you are, chernaya vdova. No offense.”  
“N-none taken,” Natasha managed, whipping blood from her lip as she used her other hand to slow the bleeding from her stomach.

Just as she found the perfect piece, a loud crash resounded through the hall as the front door exploded, a large metal disc cutting through the air with expert precision.

Irina smiled, recognizing what it was the second before it connected with her.

Grunting as she managed to catch his shield, the momentum sent her skidding back through the rubble. As she came to a stop, she looked down and smiled, proud of herself for catching it and staying on her feet.

It was heavier than she expected it to be.

Ahead of her, Captain America was trying to tend to his fallen comrade, only to be swatted away by the red-head.

“Steve…just…g-get her.”

He looked up, seemingly noticing her for the first time.

With a grin, Irina heaved the shield back at him.

He caught it and looked up at her slowly, his eyes wide.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Cap!” Irina exclaimed gleefully, plucking a length of metal from the rubble and circling the Avengers, “Figured she didn’t come alone.”

“What the hell are you after?” he demanded, shield raised.

Irina shrugged, “Do I have to be ‘after’ anything, Captain? I am an arm of HYDRA, I kill to bring it glory.”

“And we’re on your list?”

“Right at the top of HYDRA’s,” she beamed, “but you know…your pal, your Bucky? He’s number one on mine.”

Irina wasn’t sure where the admission had come from. Perhaps out of a desire to hurt the man standing before her, perhaps to get things out in the open…but either way it felt good to say…and it was sure to piss of the Captain.

His brow furrowed in confusion and he lowered his shield ever so slightly.

“What does –

Seething, Irina took a step forward, “But I’m saving him for last. He’ll live just long enough to see all of his friends die and then I will carve out his fucking heart.”

He sent the shield hurdling through the air at her, faster than before, and she knew it was too much to catch without getting injured. She leapt to the side and the shield struck the wall. Kicking up a piece of metal, she grabbed it midair and slid around his side, landing a single hit before he pivoted and sent her flying across the foyer.

As she heaved herself up from the rubble, she saw he’d returned to Natasha’s side and was gingerly helping her up.

Snarling, Irina leapt forward, landing a kick on Natasha that sent her spinning and grabbing onto the Captain’s shoulder to gain the momentum she needed to swing around and wrap her arms around his neck.  
Her grip didn’t last long. He lurched forward and sent her flying again, taking the opening in their fight to run to Natasha.

As he heaved her over his shoulder and made for the door, Irina’s blood boiled, and she made another attempt to reach them, only to be stopped by the sounds of a helicopter hovering nearby. The blinding light of a spotlight filtered through the broken glass on the foyer windows and she knew she was out of time.

Grabbing the Captain’s shield from the wall with a yank and sent it flying back towards the retreating Avengers. She spun around without bothering to watch and make sure she’d made contact, hurrying down a narrow corridor and bursting through the emergency exit into a dark alley.

She pushed herself to run as fast as she could as the helicopter pursued her from above. As she weaved through the dank alleyways, she realized her weapons case was still in the grungy apartment and hissed a curse to the Black Widow under her breath.

She could only hope the Widow would succumb to her wounds and the hidden contents of the case would remain that way.

\---------------------------------------------------

Steve paced the waiting room, anxious for an update from Helen on how Natasha was fairing. He’d managed to get her stable on the helicarrier, but the assassin had lost a tremendous amount of blood, so even Cho had her concerns going into the procedure. Which was why he opted to stay behind with her while Fury sent agents through the building to sweep for anything the HYDRA agent might have left behind.

Crossing his arms, he stopped his pacing to lean again the wall as he tried to make sense of what happened.

The agent was fast and strong. For her to catch his shield and throw it back with as much force as she did…

She wasn’t an ordinary agent.

That’s what he thought at first at least, until he’d gotten up close to her during their fight and got a good look at her…then he knew.

The door opened, and Steve pushed off from the wall, hoping for Dr. Cho but getting Bucky instead.

He managed a small smile for his friend.

“Any word?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, “No, nothing.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement, taking a seat on the other side of the room.

“Listen,” Steve started, renewing his pacing, “Buck, we got to talk about what Nat and I saw in that apartment building.”

Bucky’s brow arched slightly, his confusion evident.

“Okay…”

“I’m really not sure how to say this but…Bucky, that agent…she looked like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Dobryy vecher’ = good evening  
> ‘Chernaya vdova’ = black widow  
> ‘Ubiytsa’ = assassin  
> ‘moi izvineniya’ = my apologies


	7. Seismic Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with the fallout of the team's encounter with Irina, and Irina plots her next move...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're building to a big scene, folks, one I am incredibly excited to write! Thank you for your patience and kudos! :)
> 
> ‘Gospozha’ – madam  
> ‘Soldat’ – soldier

At first, Bucky thought Steve was joking.

Or maybe he had heard him wrong.

But then he remembered Steve rarely joked and he had a heightened sense of hearing.

“Wh-what?” was all he managed to stammer out.

Steve gave a small shrug, “I haven’t had a chance to ask Nat what she thinks, but…yeah, Buck, she looked a lot like you.”

Bucky shook his head and stood, running his hands through his hair. His throat and chest were tight and as he struggled to remember something – anything – about the agent, his anger only grew. There was nothing, not even a hint in all he could remember of his time in HYDRA that he…he…

“Steve, that’s not possible,” he whispered, voice tight and low with barely contained anger, “I haven’t been with a dame since 1944!”

“Are…are you sure, Buck?” Steve asked, trying to choose his words as carefully as possible, “I mean…HYDRA put you through hell for seventy years. You forgot a lot of things –

“I wouldn’t forget that!” he yelled, glaring at his friend with wide-eyed disbelief, “You’re wrong, Steve, whatever you think you saw…”

“Bucky, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t think there was something to it. Are you…are you sure? Maybe while you were on an assignment or –

“I’d remember having a kid, Steve,” Bucky growled, pacing the room, “I’d fucking remember!”

“Alright,” Steve raised his hands in defence, “alright, maybe I’m wrong –

“You are!” Bucky snapped, “Fuck, Steve…”

“I’m sorry, Buck, I am,” he sighed heavily, “we’ll wait until Nat’s out and I’m sure she’ll say I’m imagining it too…”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, cursing under his breath. Steve watched him closely, kicking himself inwardly for bringing it up when he honestly couldn’t be entirely certain. He didn’t want to hurt Bucky, didn’t want to remind him that there was still so much they didn’t know about what HYDRA did to him.

Still, the way she spoke about him…

_‘He’ll live just long enough to see all of his friends die and then I will carve out his fucking heart…’_

Whoever she was, Steve was certain they’d not seen the last of her. She wanted Bucky dead and the intensity of the anger in her voice told him she wasn’t going to stop.

\----------------------------------------

Irina stormed through the safehouse, teeth gritted so tight her jaw ached. She clutched her side haphazardly, so angry she couldn’t be bothered about the slow stream of blood still seeping from the wound. She passed techs and soldiers, all of which averted their gazes from her, feigning interest in whichever menial task they were working on.

She burst through the doors at the end of the corridor to find Sokolov sitting at her desk, her gaze focused on the reports she was casually flipping through. 

The komandir’s favourite lackey, Klara Sokolov, had been tasked with overseeing Irina’s efforts in America. Irina loathed her. She was weak despite her best efforts to conceal it and did everything she could to cozy up to the komandir without having the good sense to use tact. Truly, Irina wasn’t sure why he kept her around, or trusted anything of import to her. 

Still, if she wanted anything to happen after what had transpired at the apartment building, she needed to goad the woman into action.

“Gospozha,” Irina muttered, kneeling before the revolting woman as she’d been taught.

She looked up from her reports and sighed, “You made a mess, darling.”

Irina swallowed the bile that immediately rose in her throat at the mere mention of the ‘pet’ name Sokolov had stuck her with. 

It was a reminder of the moment of weakness she’d found her in all those month ago, when Soldat had first broken free of his chains and gone on the run. It had…affected her more deeply than she’d thought possible given the hatred she’d had for him, and she’d wandered into Sokolov’s bed. Not her proudest moment but a small, hidden part of her had been relieved to feel something other than pain, if only for a second.

And that was about how long it lasted. 

She’d been nearly unbearable since.

“The Widow will die from her wounds,” she reasoned, “I want to know the komandir’s plans for going after them now that we’ve been exposed.”

“You,” Sokolov corrected, “you’ve been exposed.”

The older woman stood and walked around her desk, eyeing her with a curiosity she didn’t have the sense to even attempt to conceal.

“How did that happen, darling? Are you going soft?”

Irina shook her head, “No, gospozha. I will kill them, all of them. Them knowing…even as little as they do…it only makes things interesting.”

Klara crouched down, regarding Irina with a smirk. She reached out and dug her fingers into the wound on Irina’s side, not breaking eye contact with her as she twisted them, and Irina held her breath, refusing to react anymore than that.

Ever since bedding her, Klara had gotten brazen. She basked in the power she thought she had over Irina, taking every opportunity to hurt her to keep Irina under her boot. As much as it annoyed her, Irina couldn’t help but find it amusing too. 

After all, she didn’t hold Irina’s leash.

“What are you thinking, darling?” Klara whispered.

Irina hid her amusement, swallowing the laugh she so badly wanted to let go.

“We hit them hard and take out as many of them as we can.”

Klara scoffed, “Want to send their bodies to your beloved komandir?”

“We do not kill them, we use them,” Irina corrected, eyeing the woman closely, “there are Avengers with abilities that would be an asset to HYDRA.”

She considered that, “It would piss of Stark…which is something I can abide. But many would sooner die than aid us.”

“I will kill them then.”

“It could be a waste of our resources…”

“It would be a waste to sit here and do nothing,” Irina countered, more venom in her tone than she initially intended, “And to be the woman to present captured Avengers to the komandir…I would not think you’d pass on that, gospozha?”

Klara narrowed her gaze, “It would be you bringing them in.”

Irina smiled, “I am HYDRA’s arm, a weapon entrusted to you. My actions are yours. The komandir knows that.”

“How many would you need then?”

“Two dozen of the best you have at your disposal and another team on standby to collect those we detain.”

Klara considered it for only a moment before nodding. She stood and returned to her desk, using the com to call for the captain of the enforcers stationed at the safehouse.

Irina watched her from the corner of her eye as she worked, using every ounce of self control she had to keep the grin from her lips. Excitement, pure and all-consuming, surged through her. It cut through her anger and frustration, leaving her with fantasies of the hell she’d reign down on their compound. 

\-------------------------------

“You sure, Cap?” Tony asked finally, having remained uncharacteristically silent as Steve told him his theory.

Steve sighed but nodded.

The more he thought about it since talking to Bucky, the more certain of it he was. The woman he’d encountered at that dilapidated apartment building looked too much like Bucky to not be related to him somehow. He’d let the issue drop with Bucky, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere without more than a feeling to go on, but Tony had to know. If he was right, there was something more going on they couldn’t ignore.

Natasha was in recovery after hours of touch-and-go surgery and had yet to wake up. The tension it caused throughout the compound was unsettling. Natasha was fierce. She’d taken down spies, assassins, and terrorists without backup, relying on nothing more than her talents to get the job down. Seeing her now, frail and relying on monitors and IVs to keep her alive…  
It was wrong.

All they had was what they’d found in the agent’s room after the entire building had been swept and as he looked through it with Tony, his heart sunk.

Various forms of identification, all with different names, had been stashed in a duffel bag along with thousands of dollars in cash and credit cards. A weapons case was packed full of knives, ammo, silencers, and modified firearms. The most unsettling thing was hidden in the weapons case – articles from around the world, some decades old, detailing suspicious deaths. Steve didn’t think anything of it until he found one on the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark.

Tony went silent when he pulled it from Steve’s hand and his gaze settled on the grainy black and white picture of his parents.

He realized then what Steve already had…

Each article, each death, was one of Bucky’s targets.

“Looks like he’s got a fan,” Tony said finally, slumping back into his chair as he shakily rubbed his chin, clearly shaken.

“She looked like she was in her early twenties,” Steve picked up another of the articles, one from Romania dated October 1979, “how did she find some of these…”

Most were small, articles nearly devoid of any details beyond confirming the death of the person themselves. Others were from obscure towns Steve didn’t recognize.

“If she is who you think she is,” Tony began, his voice uncharacteristically low, “I’m sure HYDRA put her on ice like they did Barnes. I’m sure she’s older than she looks…”

“Bucky doesn’t remember her. He said what she did to Rollins looked familiar but when I told him what I thought –

“That the assassin who man-handled Maximoff and nearly killed Natasha is his daughter?” 

“He said it was impossible.”

“Steve, there’s a lot he doesn’t remember.”

He shrugged, “Said he’d remember that.”

“Sure, he would,” Tony scoffed.

Silence hung between the two men. Both stared at the spread-out contents of the hidden compartment of the weapons case, trying to come up with an alternative theory that made sense.

“Do…do you believe me?” Steve finally asked.

Tony sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he let everything that had happened settle in his mind.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “but I suppose we can’t put anything past HYDRA…”

Steve nodded, “You know…if I’m right, she’s going to come after us again. She wants him dead, Tony.”

“Yeah, imagine that,” he said with a dry chuckle, “guess we need to find her before her daddy-issues put more of us in medical.”

\----------------------------

It’d been four days since Nat woke up and Bucky had yet to leave his room. He knew Steve would take his suspicions to her the moment he could, and he was absolutely terrified she’d confirm them.

He’d done nothing but wrack his mind for some shred of a memory that made what Steve said impossible, but he came up dry. Shuri and her team in Wakanda had helped him tremendously but much from his early years in HYDRA was a blur. Bits and pieces came to him in dreams but the harder he tried to focus on the methods used on Rollins, and why they seemed so familiar, the more frustrated he got.

So, he stayed in his room, curtains drawn and lights out, not bothering to so much as shower as he wallowed. 

On the morning of the fifth day there was a soft knock on his door. He told FRIDAY to ignore it, to send whomever it was away, but the conniving AI disregarded his request.

As he rolled over in bed, intent on unleashing a barrage of insults at Steve, he was startled to find Natasha standing beside his bed. She looked like hell and if it were anyone else he’d question how they were standing but she was a special kind of stubborn.

Groaning, he slid out from the covers and sat on the edge of his bed. Aside from Steve, Natasha was probably the only other person he felt this comfortable with. She’d been through her own layer of hell and respected the distance he tried to maintain, never pushing for more than he was willing to give. Silence was never uncomfortable with her…well, until now.

He’d not showered in days and was wearing the same sweats and shirt he’d gone to bed in days ago. He looked like hell, probably smelled worse, and was neck-deep in the worst depression he’d had since coming back from Wakanda.

Natasha sighed and moved to sit beside him, groaning as she lowered herself. 

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and saw how she clutched her stomach. She was paler than usual, her fiery red hair a stark contrast to her sickly-looking skin. Dark bruises ran up and down her arms and she had a faint shiner under her right eye.

“You should still be in medical,” he muttered.

“Woke up to hear you’d been sulking for days,” she said with a low, pained chuckle, “was tired of that damn room anyway.”

“Steve know you left?”

“Nope,” she smirked, elbowing him, “what’s on your mind, Buck.”

He took a deep, shaky breath.

“He told me…he thinks…”

“That the chick who knocked me on my ass is your kid,” she finished for him, having already discussed the whole thing with Steve, Tony, and Fury.

“It’s impossible,” Bucky said, swallowing hard, “I’d remember…fuck, I’d remember…”

He hung his head, running his fingers through his greasy hair as he held his breath, terrified of her response.

“Bucky –

“It’s impossible,” he growled, furious at himself for the tears welling in his eyes.

“Buck,” she started, voice soft and low, “I…I think he’s right. I’m sorry…”

He shot up to his feet and sent his nightstand flying across the room, shattering as it hit the wall and knocked pictures from their hangings. 

“He’s not!” he seethed, punching a hole in the wall.

“Bucky, please – 

“No! You’re fucking wrong!”

“Sit down,” she tried, her chest tight.

She hated agreeing with Steve, hated adding to the pile of shit Bucky was already dealing with. But the second Steve had voiced his theory, she couldn’t deny the similarities. She’d fought Bucky before, she knew how he moved, and the assassin moved similarly; as if they’d been tried by the same people.

Or…as if Bucky had trained her.

Beyond that, she saw what Steve had – the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the angle of her jaw…

Her hair was lighter, her eyes a bit darker but the likeness was uncanny.

When Bucky made no move to listen to her, she stood and grabbed his arm, using what energy she had left to jerk him back onto the bed. He didn’t fight like she expected him to and watched him closely, concerned for her friend.

Hair hung in his face, obscuring much…but not the tears beading at his chin.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” she said in a gentle whisper, “I’m sorry but…I think Steve’s onto something. She looked like you, fought like you did back before Shuri got those words out of your head…”

He just shook his head.

“Buck –

“If your right,” he managed, voice shaky, “if Steve’s right…I left her.”

Nat shook her head and hurriedly grabbed him, making him look at her. His blue eyes, full of tears and utterly broken, startled her.

“No,” she said firmly, “no, don’t go there, Bucky.”

“How can I not?” he pressed, “If she’s…mine…I left her behind…”

“You didn’t know for one, Bucky,” she soothed, “and we still don’t, not for sure. Steve…thinks she’s going to come after us again. We won’t let her get the jump on us, we knock her ass out and stick her in one of the cells Stark has for Bruce –

“Then what?” he asked, a half-heart laugh leaving him, “ask her to tell us the truth? Nat, she’s HYDRA…”

She watched his features twist and contort as he heard what he’d said.

“Oh, fuck,” he rubbed his hands over his face, angrily brushing tears away, “she’s with them…”

“Buck…”

Even if she wasn’t his kid, if she was just another test subject for HYDRA’s experiments, he’d been there…and he’d left her. All the misery they’d put him through, and he’d left another to suffer the same.

A tremor rippled through his body and he suddenly felt cold and weak.

Nat saw it, saw how he shook, and tentatively put her hand over his metal one.

“Bucky, we’re going to figure this out.”

He said nothing. He couldn’t find his voice and was too exhausted to fight it, the strange fatigue and weakness that rocked his body. Nat didn’t push him. She stayed, content with the silence, until he finally passed out and she slipped from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Gospozha’ – madam  
> ‘Soldat’ – soldier


	8. Long time, No See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes face-to-face with Irina as HYDRA gets the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts in the comments, folks! :) thank you!
> 
> ‘Gospozha’ – madam  
> ‘Teper’ – now  
> ‘Vpered’ – forward  
> ‘Gotovy soblyudat’ = Ready to comply

Nearly a month after her stand-off at the apartment building that left the Black Widow near death, Irina was readying herself for HYDRA’s next move. It took far longer than she liked, but an immediate counter attack would be what they’d expect, and she wasn’t about to make things easy for them.

She’d been busy in that time, much to Sokolov’s displeasure, picking off nearly all of those that the komandir wanted dead from the fallout at the Triskelion. All except Rumlow, which frustrated her to no end. He continued to remain overseas, seemingly ignoring the taunts she left in the form of the pile of bodies of his former comrades. 

Until recently that is. 

HYDRA had gotten word that the Avengers had nabbed him in Nigeria during an arms deal gone bad. They hadn’t killed him but had him imprisoned somewhere in the States. Intel didn’t say exactly where, but she suspected he was in the tri-State area - Stark and Fury wouldn’t want him too far after he’d been free for so long. 

Sokolov had ordered her to forget about him for the time being. The assault against the Avengers being the only thing the fool of a woman wanted her focused on. Irina played along, but was planning a separate move of her own that would see both missions addressed…

Stepping out of the small shower stall, excitement coursing through her veins, she braided her hair and pinned it back in a tight bun. She pulled on a tight sports bra and panties before slipping into her tactical gear. A special design from the komandir, she felt a pang of duty and responsibility to him each time she donned it.

He’d invested so much in her…she couldn’t let him down.

Tying up the last of the straps along her calves, she righted herself only to catch glimpse of Sokolov standing in her doorway, blatantly admiring her. She’d heard her enter of course, Sokolov had spent her entire time with HYDRA in an office, she wasn’t the stealthiest agent they had. She could tell from the smug grin on her lips though that she thought she’d snuck up on her, which Irina found insulting on a multitude of levels. 

“Gospozha,” Irina muttered, her attention on the spread of arms and ammo on her cot, “how can I be of assistance?”

“Came to make sure you’re in the right headspace,” she said, sauntering into her room, “can’t afford any mistakes on this one.”

“There won’t be,” Irina snapped, no hesitation in her tone, “just worry about your half, keep Ivan’s team occupied on the perimeter and mine ready on the side-lines. Once I slip past that AI I’ll need to move fast, there can’t be any delays.”

The two teams Ivan would lead were a distraction, cannon fodder. Armed with RPG’s and stolen tech that’d cut through the compounds shields and firewalls, they were to get the attention of as many of the Avengers as possible while she led a smaller team in under the radar. The men she led were to assist with the extraction of whomever else remained. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could grab the Captain or Stark, but she suspected she knew them well enough to know that picking off the lesser members would hurt them more than her blades ever could. 

“What will you do if you see the Winter Soldier?” Sokolov pressed, a smirk on her lips as she watched Irina.

“I will kill him,” Irina replied evenly as she strapped on her knives.

“And if Komandir wants him taken alive?”

Teeth clenched, she looked over her shoulder at the woman.

“What?”

“HYDRA has invested more in him than you could possibly know. Killing him after everything –

“Is precisely what he deserves,” Irina growled, regarding Sokolov with murderous intent, eyes aflame with anger, “After everything, I’ve earned the privilege of being the one to end him! His life is mine!”

Sokolov slowly shook her head, “Not your call to make, darling.”

Irina spun on her heels and cursed under her breath.

“I trust you can follow that order.”

Taking slow, deep breaths to calm herself, Irina had to consciously fight the overwhelming urge to turn and kill the woman with her bare hands. How dare she deprive her of her kill? A kill she’d spent decades fantasizing about, training for?

Clenching her fists, Irina said nothing and Sokolov signaled to two burly soldiers standing just outside her room. They approached her with purpose and Irina growled and kicked as they each grabbed her by an arm and pushed her back against the wall, pinning her in place. She managed to gauge the eye of one of the men, only to get headbutted hard enough to see stars.

Head spinning, she faintly registered Sokolov approaching her, a notebook in her hands.

Then she heard the words.

“Moroz,” Sokolov began.

Irina tried to kick up off the wall, only to be punched in the stomach.

“Rozheniye.”

“No!” she seethed through clenched teeth.

“Porvannyy.”

Irina leaned back, head pressed against the concrete of the wall as she instinctively fought to remain grounded in the moment.

“Voskhod.”

She knew what was coming. With each word she felt herself shrivel, decay and recede into the dark reaches of her mind.

“Temno.”

_No._

“Grobnitsa.”

She went slack against the men holding her, every fiber of her being hanging on the words coming from the woman’s lips.

“Doch. Zvezda.”

Her head fell forward, gaze blank and void.

“Dizayn.”

All resistance left her and the two soldiers holding her let up, stepping tentatively back as Sokolov waited patiently.

Irina stood up straight and when she opened her eyes, Sokolov smirked at the sight that met her.

Eyes deep, dark, and distant, Irina was a shell. In her mind, Sokolov could see the faint strings controlling the young woman’s movements, wrapped delicately about her wrists and ankles. She relished the control she had, the leash she held. With her, Sokolov would accomplish the goals of the Komandir and wipe the Avengers off the map.

“Soldat?” she asked, approaching the motionless woman.

No hint of recognition or resistance flashed in Irina’s eyes. 

“Gotovy soblyudat.”

Sokolov smiled.

\-------------------------------------------

In the weeks since Steve shared his theory, Bucky had spent hours pouring over the security footage from the Tower and reports from Rollin’s murder. More bodies with her signature had appeared since and he spent hours picking through each one, trying to get everything to sink in.

Running his fingers through his greasy hair as he sighed, he asked himself for what had to be the hundredth time how it was possible.

How could she be his? How could he not remember a damn thing about her?

The only thing vaguely familiar about her was her work, the frenzied attack she let loose on her victims before they died of blood loss or she lost interest and finally finished them off. It wasn’t practiced or controlled, like HYDRA so often expected of him. 

His own kills could often be covered by crashes, accidents, or various other circumstances. There were many that authorities never realized were murder, he’d concealed his actions so well.  
Not her though.

Nothing about her methods were subtle or hidden. She was wild, angry, and the people she killed bared the brunt of that anger.

Unbidden, his mind wondered to the why of it – why was she so angry? And more unsettling…what the hell had they done to her?

Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what she might have been through to be what she was now…

A quick knock on the doorframe pulled him from that dark thought and he turned, only to find Pietro leaning against it, much to his surprise. 

He’d had scarcely any interaction with the Sokovian since joining. Pietro was loud and obnoxious, kind but not at all the type Bucky felt comfortable around. He’d proven himself capable on missions but there was still a small part of Bucky that was unnerved by the young man. After all, he’d volunteered for HYDRA’s experiments along with Wanda; something Bucky found impossible to wrap his head around.

“I am not interrupting, no?” Pietro asked, nodding to the pile of reports and tapes spread out on the desk in front of Bucky.

“What do you want?” he asked, flipping close the one report he’d been looking through.

“I was curious,” he began, voice uncharacteristically low, tentative, “if you remembered anything about her yet?”

Sighing heavily, Bucky hesitated a moment before shaking his head. He’d only talked to Natasha and Steve about what they suspected, but he supposed he couldn’t be surprised others were fully aware of the running theory by now. The combination of close quarters and various abilities and powers made keeping things quiet nearly impossible.

“No offense, kid, but I don’t really want to talk about it,” Bucky huffed as he looked back to the monitor, which was currently paused on the image of her sitting alone at the table at Stark’s party.

Pietro kicked his foot absentmindedly, scuffing his sneaker on the polished tile floor.

“I…didn’t tell the others,” he began, careful in his choice of words, “because I don’t think they’d believe me…but…I don’t think she’s too far gone.”

Startled by his words, Bucky arched his brow and looked at him, dumbfounded.

“What?”

“Talking to her at the party, it was comfortable. And I get it, she’s good at what she does. HYDRA trained her…but just before she knocked me out, she was crying.”

As surprised as he was to hear that, Bucky immediately thought of ten possibilities to explain it away. She was an assassin, she was trained to use and manipulate. Surely nothing she did or said that night was real. He kind of pitied the kid for thinking otherwise.

“Pietro –

“I know,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, “but then why didn’t she kill me? You’ve seen the footage, she had the time and privacy to do it.”

Bucky didn’t have an answer for him. He’d considered dozens of explanations, but a moment of weakness or mercy wasn’t one of them. 

A tense silence fell between them, until Pietro smirked and broke it.

“I suppose…I should apologize for feeling up your daughter…”

Bucky gave a short laugh, “Yeah, if she is…my kid…I don’t think I’ve got any right to get all protective over her. Besides, Steve said she’s set on killing me. Don’t think there’s anything to salvage there.” His expression fell, and he looked back to the files, heart heavy. 

Even as the feeling washed over him, he was frustrated with the ridiculousness of it. He had no memories of her and only Nat and Steve’s words to go on as proof she was his and yet…

It hurt, to think of the hell she’d been put through. He remembered all that had been done to him, the mind-wiping, torture, training and conditioning, the lives he’d been made to take…

He couldn’t help but wonder how much they’d tried on her…

“I’m not so sure,” Pietro said with a shrug, “you came back after seventy years. If she is your daughter, perhaps she got your stubbornness?”

Bucky’s reply was interrupted by an explosion that rocked the building, breaking glass and sending Pietro tumbling forward. Alarms flared to life and the frantic footsteps of agents hurrying to position echoed down the corridor. 

Bucky heaved Pietro to his feet and stumbled with him through the doorway as another tremor shook everything.

“What the fuck was that?” 

\--------------------------------------------

Her men had taken out a dozen guards stationed at the north-east corner of the compound before Ivan’s teams made their move, coming up over the ridge with his RPGs as Irina moved for the breach in the wall. Air support appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and she heard her enemies scream warnings to each other just as a barrage of bullets reigned down on them. She’d left her snipers in the treeline and she could hear them picking off more agents as she sprinted across the field, combat knives drawn.

She led her team through the opening and smiled from behind her tactical mask at the sight that greeted her. 

Chaos. 

They’d been taken off guard, but she knew it wouldn’t last long, they’d regroup and come at her team hard. She needed to get in and out quickly.

“Vpered!” she hissed to her team, “teper, teper!”

She killed every agent she passed, slitting throats and gutting those she could in a whirlwind of blood and screams. 

It made her feel alive, on fire. 

This was her element, not the tedious espionage she’d grudgingly endured before.

The first wave of real resistance she faced was in the form of the obnoxious taunts of a teen in a red suit. He hung suspended high above in the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling, throwing everything he could down at her men.

Spiderman, she registered, taking cover behind a toppled desk as she reloaded her gun. Peter Parker…Stark`s protégé and the youngest member of the Avengers.

A perfect target.

Leaping from her cover, she squeezed off two precise shots that staggered the youth, sending him tumbling down to the floor. The bullets her men fired rebounded off the teen`s impressive suit, no doubt created by Stark, as he scrambled to regain his advantage. Irina quickly grabbed a smaller gun from her hip and fired, clipping him with a magnetic projectile that sent a shock of electricity through his body.

He hit the ground hard, a twitching mess as she carefully approached, her men fanning out around her.

Limp and groaning, Peter saw her approach, but his body betrayed him, keeping him on the ground as his head spun.

She knelt and tugged off his mask. Free to look him in the eye, she regarded him for a moment, silent and seemingly disinterested, before Peter saw a small group of agents enter the room from the corner of his eye. 

Before he could find his voice, her men had picked off the agents, coldly shooting them down. 

The silence that came after made bile rise in his throat.

And when a long, low groan broke that silence, he tensed.

The masked agent stood and approached one that was writhing in pain on the ground. She stood over him, head tilting as she watched him, before putting a bullet in his head.

Peter jerked at the sound of her gun, the sight of the man`s head snapping backwards as blood and brains splattered onto the polished floor.

She turned and shouted commands to her men in a language he couldn`t understand. Rough hands grabbed him under his arms and heaved him up. A contraption that looked like it came straight from Stark`s lab bound his hands, and another snapped around his neck kept him limp and weak.

As panic tore through him, he caught sight of Wanda storming into the hall and a wave of relief overcame him, his chest tightening as hope rose to meet his fear.

She used her powers to send a torrent of debris flying towards the masked agent, striking her with enough force to send her soaring back. Gunfire exploded around him, making his already aching head throb with renewed pain. As he blinked through the fog that surrounded him, he saw the masked agent sauntering over to Wanda, who had fallen in a heap nearby.

_What!?_

He saw men bind her hands and put the same collar he wore around her neck. 

The masked agent barked more orders and one of her men tossed him over his shoulder. He caught glimpse of Wanda over someone else’s shoulder, seemingly unconscious. They hurried back down a corridor lined with dead bodies, leaving the masked agent alone in the hall.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Irina remained in the hall, silent save the faint sound of gunfire reigning down on the compound around her. She’d ordered her men to retreat with Spiderman and the Scarlet Witch in tow, knowing it was imperative they make their escape if HYDRA was to gain the upper hand. And if that was to happen, she needed to capture the attention of as many of their comrades as possible.

She reloaded her gun as the sound of footsteps frantically approaching her grew louder. It didn’t make her falter, she continued to leisurely reload her firearms.

She glanced up when she saw her next victim sprint around the corner into the hall, gun raised.

Wilson, Sam; Irina thought to herself as her gaze settled on the man, the Falcon.

He didn’t wear his trademark gear. Instead, he stood before her in jeans and a t-shirt, a single gun raised, clearly taken off guard by the attack that raged around them.

“Where the hell are Peter and Wanda?” he demanded, cautiously stalking closer to her.

Irina said nothing.

She was the arm of HYDRA, a _soldat_ of its will…she would give them nothing.

“Hey,” he continued, “where the hell did you take my friends?”

She heard the fear in his voice, thinly veiled under anger and frustration that radiated from him.

Again, she remained silent.

Her keen, trained eyes caught a slight shift in tension in his arm and she moved, twisting quickly to the side as he fired.

She rolled out from behind her cover, closing the distance between them. 

His second shot was deflected by the vibranium plates in her armor along her stomach and while it did no damage it did maker her step falter, knocking the air from her chest. It would bruise horribly later, but it was well worth it to get closer to him. She ducked and grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm down and making him drop his weapon. She kicked him hard in the gut, sending him stumbling backwards. He was able to grab her as he fell though, pulling her into a headlock.

“Fucking stop, kid!” he said through clenched teeth, tightening his hold around her neck.

She growled, jumping up and reaching back over his shoulders to gain the momentum she needed to heave him over her.

He toppled to the ground, groaning.

Grabbing the knife from her belt, she charged him, only to be tackled out of seemingly nowhere.

Her knife clattered to the floor as she rolled across the debris that littered it, coming to a rest on her stomach. It took her longer than she expected to take a deep breath and right herself, and when she did she came face to face with the other Maximoff twin – Pietro.

Slowly she stood, gaze fixed on the Sokovian. Of course, she knew him from the files HYDRA had given her. An experiment gone rogue, he and his sister were assets her superiors wanted recaptured. 

As she regarded the man though, something struck her. He looked…pained and she couldn’t fathom why. It was oddly unnerving, and she reached down to her boot, pulling a long knife from the hidden sheath.  
The Sokovian was breathing heavily, chest heaving as he shook his head.

“No, printsessa,” he said with surprising calm, hands raised in a defensive posture, “Come, I need you to stop this.”

_Printsessa?_

His voice was like an echo…something…familiar?

Frustrated and aware she was running out of time, she charged him, blade raised.

He didn’t speed away as she expected. He flexed his powers just enough to catch her elbow as she neared him, twisting her arm back and moving around her to halt her movements. Her blade fell to the ground as his grip on her tightened.

“Stop!” he demanded, voice firm.

She didn’t…couldn’t. She fought him wildly, bucking against him in a desperate bid to free herself and renew her attack.

She jerked her head back, clipping him in the nose and his grip on her slipped just enough to allow her to regain the upper hand.

She spun, punching him hard in the head and quickly fetching her blade as she tackled him to the ground.

She straddled his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt in her fist as she made to bring the blade down; his neck her target. He quickly grabbed her wrist, using every ounce of strength to hold back her blade.

“Printsessa!” he hissed, his free hand going to hers on his chest as he felt it near his neck, “Irina!”

Blinding pain exploded across her side with a force strong enough to throw her from the Sokovian and send her flying violently across the room.

Pietro looked up and saw Steve and Bucky approaching, the Captain without his shield.

He looked back to Irina, who’d rolled to a stop far away, the shield on the ground beside her. 

As he stood, shaky and disoriented, she struggled to catch her breath amidst the pain that spread over her side. The shield had undoubtedly broken a few ribs and most likely her elbow, but what annoyed her most was how difficult breathing was from its impact. Try as she might, she couldn’t take a deep breath. Panic, unbidden, set in as her body betrayed her.

She eased herself up, baring her weight on her one good arm as she slowly rolled back onto her knees. Desperate to right her breathing, she ripped her tactical mask from her face, rolling her head back to look up as she took a deep breath.

She heard the Sokovian speaking through the haze of pain that dominated her and lazily looked in his direction. He was standing between her and the Captain, seemingly trying to get both him and his comrade up to speed.

Her gaze fell to the man standing beside the Captain and her chest tightened as anger seeped into her bones.

_Him._

His wide-eyed gaze was fixed on her, his raised weapon slowly lowering as he regarded her with shock. The Captain was looking at him, speaking to him, but he didn’t seem to notice. His icy blue eyes, the ones that used to instill such fear in her, only saw her.

The Sokovian turned back to her, taking a tentative step towards her despite the warnings the Captain gave.

“Printsessa?” he tried, “don’t. Stay down.”

Ignoring him, she gritted her teeth through the pain and stood, swaying. Her bad arm held tight to her body, she reached down to her thigh with her good arm, pulling another hidden blade from its sheath. 

“No,” he said firmly, still approaching her.

She hardly registered him or his voice. All she knew, all she saw, was her Soldat – the man she’d spent years wanting to kill. 

She took a single step forward before the Sokovian sped past her in a blur of white. She felt his presence beside her, felt his fist connect with her temple, and her world went dark.

\----------------------------------------

Pietro caught her before she hit the floor, careful of her damaged arm. He gently shifted her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.

He turned and saw Steve trying to calm a frozen, clearly panicked Bucky.

His eyes were still wide and fixed on the unconscious woman in his arms. 

Pietro felt awful for the man but was abundantly aware the attack on the compound was still raging and that they needed to detain Irina before she woke.

Thankfully, Steve broke through to the man.

“Buck,” he said firmly, features soft, as he grabbed his shoulder, “we need to get her somewhere safe and clear the rest of the facility. HYDRA still has agents here.”

Bucky swallowed hard but gave a small, terse nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her trigger words:  
> ‘Moroz’ = Frost  
> ‘Rozhdeniye’ = Birth  
> ‘Porvannyy’ = Torn  
> ‘Voskhod’ = Sunrise  
> ‘Temno’ = Dark  
> ‘Grobnitsa’ = Tomb  
> ‘Doch’ = Daughter  
> ‘Zvezda’ = Star  
> ‘Dizayn’ = Design  
> ‘Zerkalo’ = Mirror


	9. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina wakes up and some questions are answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Gotovy soblyudat’ = Ready to comply  
> ‘Otpusti menya’ = Let me go  
> ‘Pozhaluysta’ = Please

She awoke slowly, a splitting pain pulsing from her temples. She felt soft fabric under her fingertips and coarse leather straps across her chest and legs, binding her in place. Panic surged through her and she tried to open her eyes, tried to rise, only for a firm hand to push her back. Before she could fight anymore, someone reached for her arm and she felt the familiar pinch of a needle before passing out.

When she woke the second time, her head didn’t hurt so badly. She opened her eyes and found herself alone in a dimly lit room on a cot, hooked up to monitors and IVs. When she realized she had a catheter in her arm, hooked up to the bags of fluid, she panicked. 

She kicked against the restrains lashing her to the bed, pain from her splinted arm exploding through her as she tried to wrestle herself free. She succeeded in freeing one leg and twisted herself until she was able to tug the IV line with her toes, pulling the needle from her arm. She took a deep breath, relieved to have the needle free from her scarred arm, before renewing her attempt to get free.

She’d managed to free her other leg when the door to her room opened and a petite woman in a lab coat entered. The woman didn’t seem surprised that she’d managed to partially free herself but kept a safe distance as she signaled for armed guards to enter the room as well. 

Three armed agents blocked the door and Irina suspected there were at least four more beyond the door, if the shadows she glimpsed were any indication. She turned to the woman, who’d begun fiddling with the equipment she was hooked up to.

“I am Dr. Cho,” the woman spoke calmly, “I have been responsible for your care since your capture three days ago.”

Irina said nothing. 

“I’ve been told your name is Irina,” Cho continued, “you’ve two options, Irina. You can co-operate and allow this woman to guard you as you’re allowed a shower,” she gestured to the female agent near the door, “or these agents will escort you to your holding cell and Mister Stark will interview you when he has the time.”

Waiting in a cell without basic comforts didn’t frighten her, she’d endured worse to prepare her for the event this day would come. She knew co-operating now could benefit her later though. She was likely in the Avengers facility and if she played her cards right, and bided her time, she could use it to her advantage.

“I’ll take that shower,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper.

Cho nodded and two of the agents approached to unlatch her restraints. They guided her to a shower stall on the other side of the room, stepping back to allow the female agent to observe her. Irina glared at the woman but didn’t protest. She stripped, letting the sweat-soiled t-shirt and sports bra fall to the ground. After tugging down her shorts and panties, she set about ripping the splint from her arm. She knew her body well enough to know whatever break she’d suffered had healed. She expected the agent to protest, but the woman remained silent.

Stretching out her arm, she rubbed the freed limb, relishing the feel of the water over her body. Her injured arm was a motley of bruises. It ached, as did her side where she’d been certain she’d broken ribs. She ignored the pain as she quickly shampooed and rinsed her hair.

When she turned, the water turning off automatically, the agent nodded to a pile of towels and clean clothes on the vanity.

Irina dried herself off, squeezing the water from her hair with the towel as she looked over the clothes they provided her. She let the towels fall to the damp floor and slipped into the clean, dry underwear and shorts they’d left her. As she was tugging the sports bra down over her breasts, hissing as the tight fabric grazed her bruised ribs, she realized they’d only left her a tank top.

Despite everything, it frustrated her. She didn’t like having her arms exposed. In the years of her training, she’d suffered numerous scars, the oldest having never healed well. As a result, her arms were collages of scars, pinched skin were wounds had been haphazardly repaired, and discoloration. 

Each one reminded her of the breaks, burns, slashes, and beatings she’d received- many of them at the hands of her Soldat.

The agent watching her cleared her throat and Irina donned the tank top, shooting the agent a lethal glare as she walked past her back into the small bedroom.

Dr. Cho nodded to the agents that lingered near the door and one produced a pair of handcuffs. 

“You understand these are needed, yes?” she asked.

Irina nodded and put up no resistance as she was cuffed. As one of the agents responded to a call through his comm, Cho approached her.

“These agents are taking you to a secure suite for your interview. You will not be harmed so long as you co-operate…we are not HYDRA.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pietro frantically paced the room, unable to listen as FRIDAY droned on.

Three days, HYDRA’d had his sister for three days and they were no closer to finding her than they were the day before.

“Hey, kid, slow down,” Tony snapped, interrupting FRIDAY and making everyone in the room jump. 

Pietro stopped, glaring at him, “Why? Do you know where she is now? No? Then I won’t!”

Bucky sunk further down in his seat in the corner. He’d not slept in three days. They still had no answers, two of their own were missing, and the HYDRA agent they’d captured hadn’t woken yet.

The HYDRA agent…a young woman who might very well be his daughter…

Bucky leaned forward, his head in his hands.

Steve sighed, eyeing Bucky from the corner of his eye, “Pietro –

“No,” he snapped, “HYDRA has my sister, Captain! My sister! How can you expect me to be calm?”

“They have Peter too,” Tony reminded him, “And we all want to get them back.”

“Then why are we still here?”

They were interrupted by Cho striding into the meeting room, a datapad in hand.

“Helen, here with answers I hope,” Tony said, exasperated.

“Yes, FRIDAY would you please bring up the patient’s radiographs?”

A screen descended from the head of the long table and a series of x-rays and test results appeared. As Cho, Tony, and Pietro walked around the table to near the screen, Steve approached Bucky. He hadn’t moved when Cho had entered and still seemed lost in his own thoughts. He grasped Bucky by the shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on, jerk,” he said with a small smile.

It was enough to get a small smirk from him and he slapped his shoulder when he finally stood and moved to join the others.

Cho tapped on her datapad and a series of test results enlarged on the screen.

“The patient appears to be in her early twenties, though her cells show some signs of mutation common with the cryogenic stasis process. I’m unable to determine her exact age, but she is undoubtedly older than she appears,” she swiped on her screen and another test appeared, “I’ve also been able to confirm through DNA testing that she is your biological daughter, Sergeant Barnes…I’m sorry.”

Steve looked to his friend and his heart sunk. Bucky was pale, his jaw clenched tightly as he struggled to process Cho’s confirmation of what they all suspected.

“So, what are you thinking, Doc,” Tony began, “HYDRA growing super-solider babies in test tubes?”

“I can’t speculate on their intentions; however, she has distinctive DNA from both Sergeant Barnes and a mother. She’s no clone.”

“What else did you find?” Bucky asked, his voice strained and quiet.

She swiped on her datapad again, bringing up radiographs.

Even to the untrained eye, the numerous fractures and mended breaks were evident. Bucky took a shaky, tight breath at the sight of it.

“Evidence of torture,” Cho said evenly, shooting a sympathetic gaze at Bucky before continuing, “various healed fractures and breaks, some many years old. I suspect she has been beaten regularly since childhood.”

She flicked between radiographs, showing fractures on both her arms, legs, and ribs. 

“She’s also had her shoulders dislocated many times, as well as suffering concussions and a skull fracture. Her left orbital socket has suffered a break, as well as her mandible. Breaks to her femur required surgical repair,” she brought up another x-ray, “which was completed with screws and plates.”

Bucky cursed under his breath and turned away, taking a deep breath to try to compose himself. 

“This is the damage she suffered when the Captain hit her with his shield three days ago,” she changed scans, “you can see the rib fractures and distal fracture of the humerus. This scan,” she swiped on the screen, “was taken two hours ago.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tony gasped, shaking his head as he looked at the two radiographs side by side.

“What?” Steve asked, turning from Bucky to see what had startled Tony so much.

He pointed to the scans, not waiting for Cho to explain, “She’s healing.”

“Far faster than normal,” Cho finished, “I suspect some degree of experimentation was conducted on her. She’s got accelerated healing like I’ve only seen the Captain and Sergeant Barnes.”

“The serum,” Steve offered, “what they used on me and Buck –

“Fuck,” Bucky growled, slamming his fist down on the table as he began to pace.

“You don’t remember her?” Tony pressed, “nothing about this is jogging your memory?”

“No! Fuck, Tony, I swear,” he swore and ran his fingers through his hair, “I was alone! There was no kid!”

“Well obviously you weren’t alone the whole time if you’ve got a kid –

“Tony,” Steve interjected with a scowl.

“Is she awake? Can we speak with her?” Pietro asked.

Cho nodded, “I’ve had agents move her to the interrogation room. Captain, I’m inclined to agree with your serum speculation. She has extensive damage to the veins in her arms, like she’s been given intravenous fluids or medications repeatedly. It’s the sort of vascular damage you’d typically see with IV drug users.”

“Can we just talk to her?” Pietro blurted, “If she knows where Wanda is –

“We have to be smart about this,” Tony said, his hand outstretched to slow Pietro down, “She’s not the doe-eyed honey that felt you up at my party, okay? She’s a HYDRA operative, she’s not just going to tell us everything we need to know.”

Bucky glared at him, chest tight, “She’s my daughter,” he pointed at the radiographs on the screen, “they did that to her,” his voice faded as he struggled to find the words, “we’re not… we can’t…”

Steve, seeing his friend was floundering, stepped forward and clasped him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, Buck, no one is going to hurt her anymore.”

“Let me talk to her,” Pietro interjected.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Kid –

“I don’t think she’s a fan of you, Stark,” he snapped, “and if what the Captain said is true, she hates Bucky.”

“Then we send Steve in,” Tony reasoned, “kid, you’re too close to this. She’s not – 

“Her name is Irina,” Pietro seethed, his patience completely evaporated, “and when she tells Cap to shove it, you’ll find me in the gym.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Irina was quiet and obliging when the agents made her sit and set about tightening the straps that immobilized her arms and legs. The room they’d led her to was clean, sterile. The chair they’d strapped her to was bolted to the ground and a two-way mirror dominated the wall to her right.

She was alone for quite a while when the door opened, and Captain America joined her. 

She immediately sat up straight in the chair, on edge, and glared at him as he grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and brought it over to sit in front of her.

He sighed as he sat down and regarded her with soft, sympathetic eyes.

“Pietro tells me your name is Irina,” he said tentatively, “I’m Steve.”

Irina chuckled. She’d gone into the room thinking that she’d say nothing, give them nothing. But he was too amusing not to have fun with.

“I know who you are, Captain,” she scoffed.

“I know that Bucky’s your father, Cho confirmed it,” he countered, “did HYDRA send you here to kill him?”

“No, Bucky Barnes died in ’44, Captain,” she said, “My father is the Soldat.”

Steve scowled, “He’s not HYDRA’s anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He sighed, “Who was your mother?”

She smiled but said nothing.

“Is Irina your real name?”

“What do you think?”

“How old are you?”

“Captain,” she scoffed, “you should know better than to ask a lady that!”

He sighed.

“Why are you here, Captain?” she asked, “What is it you want?”

“My friends back. Your men took two of mine.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Irina –

“Steven,” she goaded, “what makes you think I’d tell you? I came here to kill as many of your people as I could. I’ve come very close to killing two of your ‘friends’ and I’d give anything to kill your precious ‘Bucky’!”

“He’s your father –

“He’s my torturer!” 

Irina slouched back in her chair, chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of herself.

Steve regarded her with wide eyes. His initial urge was to deny it, to write it off as nothing more than an attempt to get under his skin, but her reaction was real. Fiery and raw, the look in her eyes was unsettling and despite having darker eyes than him, very much like Bucky.

“Get out,” she growled lowly, “get…out…”

Steve stood, shaking despite his efforts to control it, “Get comfortable then, kid.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, “and hail HYDRA!”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Steve leaned against the door the second it closed behind him, heart racing. 

Whatever he had been expecting going into the room, that wasn’t it.

He turned and saw Tony near the two-way mirror, a hand over his mouth. Behind him, Bucky was leaning against the wall beside the hole he’d punched in it. 

He approached Bucky cautiously; aware that he was on edge, exposed and vulnerable. He had been since Irina was captured. But after what he’d heard…

He grabbed Bucky’s mechanical arm gently and he pushed off from the wall to face him.

Even with his long hair fallen forward to obscure some of his features, Steve could tell he was crying.

“Buck –

“The breaks,” Bucky murmured, bile rising in his throat.

“Don’t –

“Her scars,” he continued, voice tight and bright blue eyes flooded with tears he stubbornly fought to hold back.

“Bucky, stop –

“I did it,” he muttered, voice laced with self-loathing and utter disbelief, “Steve, I beat her…they made me…”

“They made you, Bucky,” Steve said firmly, grasping his shoulder and forcing him to look at him, “They made you do it. It wasn’t you, Bucky, that was never you.”

“I still did it,” he breathed, shaking his head and looking past him to her beyond the two-way mirror. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Irina was overwhelmed. All she could feel were the restraints binding her to the chair, the way they dug into her skin. All she could smell was the Captain’s aftershave, the sterile air from the vents. Suddenly she was hyperaware of the eyes on her; the cameras in the corner of the room, the two-way mirror the Captain and his comrades where undoubtedly behind. 

He was probably there, only separated from her by a thin plane of glass.

She felt warm, her chest tight. Something inside of her was screaming to be freed and she squeezed her eyes shut to stop the dizzy spell that had washed over her. She felt her arms shake and her fingers felt numb.

Opening her eyes, she tugged against her bonds.

“Otpusti menya,” she muttered, chin trembling as her gaze darted around the room, “pozhaluysta…”

Silence answered her, and Irina jerked her legs up in a kicking motion, desperate to be away from the weight of the bonds holding her.

Terrified, Irina screamed as she tried to pull her hands free.

Commotion from beyond the door demanded her attention and she looked up to see the door slide open and Cho step through.

Her gaze fell to the syringe in the doctor’s hand and she intensified her struggle.

“Irina, please!”

“Pozhaluysta,” she stammered, gaze not leaving the needle, “get away from me!”

The tension was so rigid in her body, everything ached. She didn’t relax until Cho poked her in the muscle of her shoulder and injected the sedative. 

\-------------------------------------

Pietro only half-listened as Steve and Tony droned on. They’d dragged him from the gym and, after giving him the abridged version of what had happened, he’d forgone showering to get to the interrogation room as quickly as possible. 

He saw Bucky shaking in his seat on the other side of the small room, seemingly lost in thought. He looked through the two-way mirror and saw Irina slumped in the chair, her damp hair in her face.

“What did they give her?” he asked, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest through the mirror.

“A sedative,” Tony said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “no one expected a hardened HYDRA agent to have a panic attack.”

“She’s not hardened, Tony,” Steve said gently, “she’s a kid whose been beaten and manipulated.”

Pietro looked to Tony.

“So, I am cleared then yes? To speak with her?”

“Yeah, couldn’t hurt now,” he shrugged.

Pietro ducked past them and into the tight quarters of the interrogation room. The door slid closed behind him and he cautiously approached her, grabbing a chair that had been cast aside and pulling it up to sit in front of her. 

She didn’t react to his presence, didn’t so much as flinch as he moved the chair. 

“Printsessa?” he said gently, not wanting to startle her.

She groaned, and he tentatively reached out to brush her hair out of her face.

“How do you feel?” he asked, wondering just how much sedative Cho’d given her to make her this loopy.

“Like shit,” she whispered, eyes still closed and a dopey grin on her lips.

Pietro couldn’t help but smile, “Are you certain? You look alright.”

Irina hummed, shaking her head, “No…don’t like this feeling.”

His smile slowly faded.

“Feel…weak,” she stammered on, “vulnerable…”

“I’m sorry. I’ll keep you safe though, until you’re feeling better.”

Irina pouted, “Wish I could believe you…”

His heart sunk. As drugged up as she was, she was being sincere. As fierce as she was when HYDRA attacked and as passionate as she was the night they met, this part of her was real – the overwhelmed, anxious, broken woman he saw now.

It was unsettling.

“Printsessa, can you open your eyes?”

She gave a low, petulant groan but slowly opened her eyes, squinting as if the light was too bright.

Pietro smiled, “There you are.”

Irina snorted in amusement, “Fuck you…”

“Language, love,” he teased, nudging her knee with his.

“What do you want, Speedy?” she asked, dazed gaze struggling to focus on him.

Pietro cleared his throat, “Your men took two people with them when they retreated. One of them was my sister…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath before looking at him with more focus that she’d managed before.

“Wanda?”

“Yes,” Pietro nodded, leaning forward in his seat, “her name is Wanda and she’s the only family I’ve got left. I need you to tell me where she and Peter are.”

Irina puckered her lips as she thought on what he said, head resting on her shoulder as she watched him.

“You want me to betray HYDRA?”

“Irina,” he said firmly, “they don’t deserve your loyalty.”

“And you do?” she countered, “your friends with my Soldat –

“You tell me where Wanda and Peter are, and I swear I won’t let him near you,” he interrupted.

“Promises, promises,” she muttered.

“Irina, I’m begging you…she’s my sister,” he said softly, panic surging through him at the thought of not finding her, “she’s the only family I’ve got left…”

She watched him closely, the glazed look in her eyes somehow not as bad as before. 

“She means that much to you?”

“Yes, printsessa,” he said gently, barely managing to contain his surprise that that was so bizarre for her.

“Alright.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she gave an exaggerated nod, “but you should know, I can’t be certain exactly where she’s taken them.”

“She?”

“Sokolov,” Irina explained, “she’s heading our efforts in the States. She’s paranoid, she wouldn’t have brought your friends back to our main safehouse.”

“Where is she?”

“I can give you the locations of all of our safehouses in the tri-State area.”

Without saying anything, Pietro stood and hurried out of the room. He pushed past Tony and Steve and grabbed a notepad and pen, ignoring their protests as he returned to Irina. 

He slipped the notepad under her hand and forced the pen into her hand.

“Write,” he said breathlessly, “please.”

“I have conditions,” she said, loosely holding the pen he’d given her.

“Anything.”

Irina smiled, a playful, seductive glimmer in her eyes he recognized from the night they’d met.

“You sure about that?”

Pietro gave her a stern look.

“Irina –

“I don’t want to speak to the others, least of all my Soldat,” she said, “I speak to you.”

“Agreed, now –

“And when all this is said and done, and I’ve answered all of your questions, I don’t want to be locked away in some cell.”

“Irina,” Pietro sighed, “I can’t promise that they’ll let you go…”

“I know, Speedy,” she said with a far-off smile steeped with sadness, “just promise me no cage.”

He swallowed hard but nodded.

“Words, Pietro.”

“I promise.”

Irina nodded and looked down at the blank notepad he’d pushed under her hand. With a sigh, she began writing.


End file.
